Guilty Love
by Starfire Grace
Summary: A frighten and confused sixteen year old girl had given a testimony that sent Son Goten to prison for a crime that he never committed. Now, after years of struggling, she has a new life and a new name—Bulla Lacestings—and was managing to deal with the guilt. Then Goten reappears, full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Guilty Love**

**By**

**Starfire Grace**

**Summary: A frighten and confused sixteen year old girl had given a testimony that sent Son Goten to prison for a crime that he never committed. Now, after years of struggling, she has a new life and a new name—Bulla Lacestings—and was managing to deal with the guilt. Then Goten reappears, and she feels trapped by the memories and imprisoned by her helpless attraction to him.**

**He didn't recognize her. But he took one look at her and knew she was the girl he wanted **

**Bulla knows she's losing a battle to keep not only the past, but also her passion for Goten, concealed. Even if she could convince him of her love, could he ever forgive her once he knows the truth? **

**A/N: Hey guys so I wanted to do something different and decided to write a fic for my second favorite couple of all time, Goten x Bra. This fic will be rated M for brief language, smoking, and sexual references and content. Okay so I guess you could say this a major A/U the events of Z only goes as far as the Cell Games, the Buu arch never happened, Trunks and Bra don't know how to use their saiyan powers cause Vegeta died before he could teach them, Goten knows somewhat but not much since he was raised by Gohan after Chichi died. Oh and the Z fighters lost touch with one another after Goku died so they're basically strangers. Okay so I hope that helps from asking questions like why aren't they using their powers or reading ki and other stuff like that. Let's get into the story already! Leave a review on what you thought, thanks :D**

Chapter 1

Bulla looked out over the large illuminated office at Lilac Aviation. She had been working at the airfreight company for almost a year now, and it was beginning to feel like home. The thought filled her with warm contentment as she leaned against the front of her desk, cautiously sipping her hot coffee. In the hangar adjoining the glass wall that partitioned the office, mechanics crawled over the bodies of two DC3s being checked out for their next flights. The DC3, Bulla had discovered since working here, was one the most reliable airplanes ever built and still in operation all over the world despite its age.

Mr. Phoenix, her boss walked into the hangar, alongside a well-muscled looking man. The man stood with his back to Bulla so she couldn't see his face, and she noticed him in that half-seeing, slightly distracted way one studies a distant object and fails to really see it. Her thoughts on other things, namely the beautiful white winter overcoat with sliver-fox collar she had seen on sale at Kelli Yuma's woman's clothing store. It was simply to die for and the price tag had almost made her do so. Bulla did some swift and mad calculations, but no matter how she juggled the bank account and future paychecks, the figures didn't come out right and she could not afford the coat. Nor could she justify the expense, since it really only ever rained in Japan with those rare occasions of snow so what she really needed was a new rain coat. With a small sigh of resignation, she took another cautious sip of her steaming coffee.

Something the unknown man did caught her attention, and she began to study him more carefully. He wore a black leather jacket and dark fitting blue jeans that seemed to show off every toned muscle of his long legs. His dark thick black hair was styled in a way that it spiked high above his head and she wondered briefly if he used lots of hair gel to keep it that way. He was probably a candidate for a job. Bulla knew Mr. Phoenix was looking for a new pilot. One of the older pilots had developed a heart condition and had to leave suddenly. A commercial cargo airline short of pilots meant delays and disgruntled customers. Mr. Phoenix would be desperate to replace the old pilot, she was sure of that.

Still thinking how wonderful she would feel in that winter coat with the fur collar turned up against her face, Bulla noted idly that the stranger was a tall man. He towered over Mr. Phoenix, who she had always thought was a tall man but he looked like a midget compared to this stranger, and moved with an effortless grace. As Bulla's gaze lingered, a nameless unease started to uncoil inside her.

The coat went instantly and completely out of her mind. She stood transfixed, watching everything he did, waiting for him to turn so that she could get a glimpse of his face. His head was angled downward as he listened to Mr. Phoenix, who was pointing to the nearest aircraft. She saw the man lift a hand and unzip his leather jacket, he slid his hands into his jean's pockets, using his elbows to push the jacket back out of the way. Then some noise, perhaps a mechanic dropping a wrench, a drilling suddenly turning on, made him turn his dark head and she saw the side of his face.

She stood stunned, unable to believe what her senses told her. Her mind reacted with denial_. Don't panic! Keep calm_. The sharp commands echoed in her head in quick succession. It was just someone who looked like him. The eyes could play tricks on you sometimes, everybody knew that.

She placed the coffee cup down on the desk with a tremulous hand. Her protective instincts sent her thoughts darting from one possibility to another, from one explanation to another, frantically trying to explain away the man in the hangar who had suddenly sprung into her life from out of the past. A past that she thought she buried deep inside. A past that her conscious mind had successfully wallpapered over with the humdrum patterns of everyday life. She had pretended for some time now that it had never happened, had convinced herself that it had been nothing more than a bad dream, some mirage her overactive imagination had conjured up. Now all those carefully constructed lies and deceptions were being stripped away by the appearance of this stranger. She could not still the searing apprehension that filled her, nor quiet her jangled nerves as dark thoughts converged, jolting her to alarming possibilities that the stranger's presence presented.

She would just have to sit down for a moment and not get into a panic, she told herself, struggling to stay calm. Then she would quietly and inconspicuously get up and go to the rest room to wash her hands and give herself another few minutes to compose her thoughts with no one else around. She sat and waited and finally she saw Mr. Phoenix turn away from the man and walk towards the door that joined his office to hangar area. The other man had disappeared from her view to another part of the hangar. She looked up as she felt Mr. Phoenix's gaze upon her. He signaled to her to come into his office. She moved away from her desk and walked towards the glass enclosure. Once inside, she stood in front of his desk, trying to still the pounding of her heart.

"We've got a new pilot working for us, Bulla." He beamed, pleased with himself at having filled the vacancy. "I want you to type up his personal data and file it. There's something I want to tell you about him, but I haven't the time right now. I'll speak to you about it later."

"Yes Mr. Phoenix," she replied softly, taking the papers he held out. She didn't trust herself to look at them, and she tried to keep her visibly shaking hand still, thrusting it, with the papers, to her side.

"That's all for now, Bulla." He smiled kindly. She smiled back, thinking once again how lucky she was to have Mr. Phoenix for her employer. He always treated her like one of his own daughters, and she loved working for him. She would hate to have to leave Yamatori. She was jumping to hasty wild conclusions, she told herself as she turned away and moved back across the carpeted, plant-lined office area to her desk. She sat down, placing the folder in front of her. It looked harmless enough. Just a simple manila folder with an application form inside it, the necessary information required of any new employee. That was all it was. Harmless, perfectly harmless.

_Look at it,_ her mind ordered. _Simply pick it up and look at it. Go on. Look at it._

With trembling hands, she opened the folder and forced herself to read the application form. Then her heart stopped beating, and her breath stayed lodged in her throat somewhere. His name bounced wildly off the page. She shut her eyes as the words danced in her entire being. Questions crowded into her mind in a silent barrage that she was unable to answer. She opened her eyes and forced herself to look again at the application in front of her.

_Son Goten. Male. Japanese. Thirty years old. Orange Star University. Eastern's Flyers Academy of Japan. _The words began to swim in front of her eyes; her mind barely able to absorb what she was reading. She scanned the list of previous employers and noticed a gap, seven years that had been left carefully blank, unannounced for.

All the blood drained from Bulla's face, and she put a shaky hand to her head to conceal her expression from anybody who happened to be looking her way. It was him, there was no doubt about it. What was she going to do? Would it be possible to avoid him? Maybe he would never see her. The pilots came into the office to check on inventories of goods, to talk to with Mr. Phoenix about changes in routes, any last-minute hitches because of the weather or to discuss some mechanical delay. No! That was a desperate, foolish hope. It was impossible to avoid him. Sooner or later he would see her. That was a certainty.

Frantically she reminded herself that she had only been sixteen at the time. Her appearance had changed dramatically since then. She had been a flat chested unsophisticated teen, a real Plane Jane. She had even worn glasses. Her hair had been pulled back in a high ponytail. She reached up and touched the mane of aqua-blue waves that now framed the mature contours of her face and reach all the way down to her waist. The up-to-the-minute hairstyle and deftly applied makeup had transformed her completely. She was bit taller now too, and her willowy figure had filled out in all the right places. Yes, to even the most discerning eyes she would be completely unrecognizable from her former self, from that timid sixteen year old girl. Yes, she thought relaxing, there was every chance he would not recognize her. She had even changed her name. What a lucky decision that had been. She had done it because she wanted to put the past behind her, to start fresh, so she legally changed it. She was no longer the Bra Briefs he'd known at the trial. She had taken her grandmother's maiden name, Lacestings, and used her middle name, Bulla. She almost laughed out loud with relief, because she had grown so accustomed to her new name she had almost forgotten she hadn't always had the name.

A movement in peripheral vision caught Bulla's attention. She turned and saw her friend Valese Parison walking towards her. Smiling, Bulla quickly masked her anxiety. With her usual air of camaraderie, Valese perched on the edge of Bulla's desk and bent forward, a mischievous glimmer in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Phoenix hired a new pilot," Valese whispered. "And is he a hunk! Have you seen him?"

"I haven't gotten a good look at him. I've only seen him from a distance. Phoenix gave me his paperwork. I was about to type it up." Her words came out faster than usual, betraying her edginess.

"Well if you get a chance, find some excuse to go out into the hangar. He's still out there talking to one of the mechanics. That is, if you want to be positively blown over by sheer masculinity and sex appeal that oozes from every pore. Of course, if you're not impressed by that sort of thing," Valese said, studying her fingernail polish with exaggerated interest, "I won't hold it against you, because I would like a clear field, actually."

"If he's all you say he is, he's out of my league," Bulla murmured. Valese's interest in Goten could be an advantage. Bulla didn't want anyone including Valese, to think that she was at all interested in Son Goten. She was determined to keep a low profile and fade into the background.

Unfortunately, her ploy backfired, because Valese's antennae went up instantly. Her gaze slipped over Bulla's curving figure, long legs, blue eyes and mop of aqua blue wavy hair. "You're underestimating your charms," she said. "Why is that, I wonder?"

Valese was too quick, Bulla thought. She should have known better. The last thing she wanted was Valese to have any suspicions regarding her and Son Goten.

With studied casualness she replied, "I…have my eye on someone else at the moment. Besides, I haven't gotten a really good look at him yet." She smiled sweetly trying to cover up her anxiety again. There was no one in her life at the moment, but she would invent somebody if necessary.

Valese smiled back with good-natured delight at her reply.

"Thanks, I'll remember you in my will." She slid off the desk and turned back towards her own desk.

As Bulla watched her go, a soft sigh relief escaped. That was one tricky situation out of the way. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Her head and mind reeled.

Her gaze flickered back to the application. Marital status: Single. Address: 754 Lydian Street. She wondered if he lived alone, if he made any friends since he had served his time. They say getting back into the world was immensely difficult.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut as remorse eddied inside her. It wasn't all her fault, she told herself. It wasn't all her fault. She had to remember that. She couldn't help it. She had only been sixteen for Kami sake! She couldn't forget that.

Bulla placed her fingers on the keyboard of her computer and started typing a formal file on him with all the necessary dada, forcing herself to concentrate, forcing herself to forget for a moment. Until she finished this, she promised herself she wouldn't think about it. She had a job to do. She couldn't indulge herself in emotional drama. She was a working girl with bills to pay, dependent on her own earnings. There was no room for reflection on anything else.

She finished typing.

When she looked up at the clock again it was it was nearly seven o'clock. She tidied her desk and took her handbag out of the drawer. She took her coat off the hanger in the closet, pulling it on and waved goodbye to Valese and Mr. Phoenix across the space of the office. She hurried out of office into the cool evening. The sky rumbled ominously, and she knew that it would rain any minute.

The rain began to spatter down as she walked briskly across the parking lot. It crossed her mind that she should stop and something for dinner at the nearby grocery store, but the sanctuary of her apartment beckoned so strongly that she decided to make do with the leftovers in the refrigerator. She slid into the front seat of her car and searched her handbag for her keys.

The traffic was heavy on the way home, and the rain pelted down on the windshield so hard the wipers couldn't keep up with it. The drive home was a slow one; she had too much time to think, too much time to remember.

When she reached her apartment she flung her coat onto the nearest chair and walked into the kitchen to take some aspirin out of the cupboard. Her head throbbed painfully. She swallowed the aspirin and closed her eyes, waiting for relief to come to her pounding temples. In her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes, dropping them heedlessly on the floor behind her, and walked into the shower. Immediately the warm soothing spray pelted down her soft skin. The water streamed down the wall of the cubicle and over her. The mist of spray hung in the air as she languished underneath it, closing her eyes and trying to dispel the images that crowed into her mind. She pressed her hands to her temples trying to squeeze the images out, but they kept flashing in relentless and devastating succession, like images in one of those old film projectors

Finally she could suppress them no longer and she began to sob, little tiny muffled sounds at first that gradually escalated into great racking sobs that were soundless but heart wrenching, and they went on till she could cry no more.

The next morning her eyes were red and swollen. She used an astringent and bathed them repeatedly to get the swelling down, and then she summoned up all her skill as she applied her makeup, trying to disguise the ravages of the night before. As she slid into her white ruffled blouse and black skirt with a matching black jacket, she gazed at herself in the mirror, trying to restore her confidence. She purposely kept her hair in its tousled casual waving style because it was so completely different from the way it had been at the trial. Now it framed the delicate contours of her face, emphasizing her blue eyes. She reassessed her changed physical nerves. She tried to remember exactly how tall she had been at sixteen. She glanced down at her high-heeled pumps. That was another thing in her favor. It was a small thing, but she breathed more deeply and felt more confident somehow.

When she reached the office, she noticed that Mr. Phoenix was already at his desk. She immediately began sorting through some work she wanted to file away before he called her in. on edge, she knew he would want to speak to her first thing in the morning, and her instincts told it was about Goten. After about fifteen minutes, he signaled to her through the glass partition. She immediately picked up a notepad and pencil and walked in.

"Good morning, Mr. Phoenix." She tried to appear as normal as possible.

"For pity sake, when are you going to learn to me Alex, like everybody else, Bulla?"

She hesitated and blushed. Perhaps it was out of respect for his age. His first name always stuck in her throat and "Mr. Phoenix" rolled off her tongue so much more easily than "Alex."

"It's just a habit I got into," she apologized, a little embarrassed. "That's how I think of you. You're always Mr. Phoenix in my mind."

"Okay," he said good-naturedly.

She could see he really didn't mind. She thought it secretly pleased him.

"Now that you mention it, I think I would find it strange if you did start calling me Alex." He turned over some papers on his desk and then looked back up at her.

"I wanted to talk to you about the new pilot I hired," he said, rolling back in his swivel chair and bracing his elbows on the arms to steeple his hands in front of his face. "You're not a gossipy girl, Bulla. At least from what I've seen of you, you don't strike me as that type. What I have to tell you is between you and me, and I don't want it to go any further. I think I can trust you to keep it under you hat, can't I?" his bright green eyes held a silent appeal.

"Yes," she murmured, looking at him directly. Yes most certainly. If only he knew, she would be last person in the world to want to gossip about Goten. She struggled not to let her inner turmoil that his words were stirring up show on her face.

"Good our new pilot—I gave you his paperwork yesterday. Not all his data is filled in. there are one or two things we have to adjust, gloss over for his sake. One of them is that he served time in prison." His gaze flickered up to hers to judge her reaction.

She tried to keep her gaze steady and not blink an eye. "I see," she said quietly.

"So we're going to make a few minor adjustments; invent something for his previous employer, fix the dates, how long he worked there, et cetera. And keep it to yourself. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly sir," she murmured.

"I believe a man deserves a second chance. Don't you?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"I can see your heart is in the right place, Bulla. He does seem like a good man. It's really hard to believe that he's an ex-con." He stared at some point in the distance unseeingly, then back at her. "When you meet him, you'll see what I mean. He doesn't act like the sort of man who would be found guilty of manslaughter, or any serious charge for that matter."

Bulla stood in rigid silence, unable to move, unable to speak.

"Ah, well, that's life," he said, unsteepling his hands. "We've all got skeletons in our closets, things we've done…enough said. You'll fix that, Bulla, and remember, not a word to anyone. He's paid his debt to society as far as I'm concerned."

As Bulla stood in rigid silence, her mind raced. Mr. Phoenix had said a man deserved a second chance. A second chance. Did she deserve a second chance? Would he give her a second chance? She didn't think so.

She murmured an almost incoherent reply to Mr. Phoenix and quickly turned away, wanting very much to get back to the relative safety of her desk.

Her head was spinning and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it. Mechanically she picked up the application and filled in his last employer as Unity Airlines, to satisfy any prying eyes that happened upon it. Position Held: Pilot. When she came to salary she put down one that she knew was in keeping with what a pilot with a small airline would have earned. Her fingers moved in a jerky fashion over the keyboard keys, and eventually she settled down into something vaguely resembling her usual efficiency. She closed her eyes periodically and prayed to get through this day. If she could get through this day she told herself, tomorrow would be easier and the day after that even easier until, by the end of the week, she should be back to something resembling normal.

When she finally glanced up from her work, she saw Valese striding her way towards her desk in her usual air of joie de vivre. As usual, she perched on the edge of Bulla's desk.

"Aren't we serious today? Did something go wrong with what's-his-name? You seem to have a black cloud suspended over you."

Bulla summoned up a hasty smile to dispel that impression. "No, I just stayed up too late reading, and now I'm feeling a bit jaded. I didn't get enough sleep, that's all."

"Have you seen him yet?" Valese tilted her head in the direction of the hanger.

"No," Bulla replied absentmindedly. Sooner or later it was going to happen, and she wasn't at all sure what she was going to do, or how she was going to react. The prospect shook her, and it must have shown in her face.

"Don't let him get you down," Valese said softly.

Bulla looked up startled.

"What's-his-name, don't let him get you down. If things are going wrong, just remember there are lots of other fish in the sea." Bulla was instantly relived as she realized Valese was referring to the invented man in her life and not Son Goten.

"But don't go fishing for the one out there." Valese motioned to the hangar again. "He belongs to me. That's if he'll let me catch him." She bent forward. "Fill me in on the details."

"What details?"

"His vital statistics, of course. Is he single, divorced? He doesn't have a married look. I hope I'm not mistaken."

"No," Bulla said quickly, increasingly happy that Valese might serve as a distraction and aid in preventing her from being detected. "You got a clear field. It says single on his application. Unless he's got a fiancée tucked away somewhere. And he's well educated. But how do you propose to meet him? Will you get Phoenix to introduce you, or will you invent some excuse to go out there?"

"Trust me, girl, I'll think of something. Feminine wiles are inexhaustible, you know." She slid off the desk. "I'd better go and do some work."

Bulla's gaze followed her, then drifted back towards the hangar, and then she turned to her work.

Later in the afternoon, Mr. Phoenix signaled frantically to her to come into his office. When she reached the glassed-in partition that separated him from the rest of the office staff, he looked up with a harassed expression on his face.

"Bulla, will you make these adjustments? Customers that call up at the last minute and expect you to move heaven and earth for them drive me up the wall."

Bulla watched him disappear into the hangar. She picked up the lists and studied them intently, dismayed by all the last minute changes. She knew she should get to her desk quickly and get this done and printed out or she just might be here after closing. Completely absorbed, she didn't hear the outer door to Mr. Phoenix's office open and close softly. With her gaze still locked on the lists, she swung around and suddenly slammed into a solid wall of rock-hard flesh.

Startled, she gasped and jumped back as the cargo list flew from her hand and fluttered to the floor.

"Oh, damn it all!" she muttered, reaching down to pick up the sheaves of paper. When she looked up, she was horrified to find herself staring into the wary black eyes of Son Goten. His stunning good looks plunged her into momentary speechlessness. The force of his tough, masculine presence seemed to crowd the small office.

He didn't move a muscle as his eyes engaged hers with an almost hostile stare. Then with male thoroughness he let his gaze slide with lazy inspection over her.

Bulla felt her face grow warm. Immediately the sting of heady sensuality flared between them like a just-struck match, and then an equally powerful sting of fear followed quickly on its heels.

"I thought you heard me come in," he said with studied indifference.

His low, even voice eddied into her ear from some distant point in space, jolting her out of her momentary stunned state. He was speaking to her. His questioning expression indicated he found her slightly demented and not all there.

"I…d-didn't hear you," she murmured, stammering like schoolgirl. "I…uh…was concentrating on these lists," she added. Her voice and face mirrored her confusion as she pointed to the papers on the floor. She had to get away from him.

Hastily she bent to retrieve the remainder of the scattered lists, searching for any excuse to move away and not have to look him in the eye. The question _does he remember? _Surged and hovered uppermost in her mind.

"Wait a minute. I'll help you," he said quietly. With the same effortless grace she had noticed before, he bent down beside her. His tall, well-built frame was barely an inch away now. His shoulder grazed her arm, his muscular thigh almost touching hers. Her heart pounded wildly as he helped her gather the papers.

He regarded her with lazy amusement. "Do you bump into people a lot?" he flashed a teasing smile that softened his stern features.

"Not a lot." She laughed nervously.

"I suppose I should have said something." His smile faded away, and he was guarded once again, so self-contained that could detect nothing of what was going on behind those amazing ebony eyes that had changed from black to leaden and had suddenly become veiled and remote. If he recognized her, there was still no outward sign that he did. The thought calmed her, and she looked down at the papers again and began to rise slowly, not looking at him.

"That might not be a bad idea," she said with a flirtatious note in her voice that it was remarkable, considering the circumstances.

She straighten to her full height and gave the papers another little juggle to even out the edges. She was acutely aware of his nearness, of him standing over her, and she was glad to have something to do with her hands for the moment. She knew that she had to look up at him, look him in the face again or it would seem odd. Summoning up a fair imitation of a relaxed smile, she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze. There was something about his nearness that caused her hand to shake involuntary, and she almost dropped the list all over again. Instantly she tried to cover up the potent effect he had on her.

"You must be the new pilot, Son Goten, it's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Lilac Aviation. I'm Bulla Lacestings."

"Thanks," he said, still watching her warily. The ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"Mr. Phoenix is a great guy. Everybody likes working for him," she added.

He was studying her silently again. Perhaps he was wondering if she knew about him. He probably wondered that about anyone he met, she thought. But her friendly manner seemed to satisfy him.

"I hope I will too," he replied with a kind of cynical reserve. Her heart clenched at the distance he put between himself and those around him, the hard suspicious wall he seemed to have built around himself, as if he were forever waiting for someone or something to attack him. Her gaze flickered as she realized that she had been partly responsible for putting it there.

"I've got to be getting back to my desk. I've got plenty to do. It was nice meeting you," she said quietly, the trite phrase almost choking her.

"Nice meeting you," he replied. He was still studying her with the same intent look in his dark eyes, as if he could see into the depths of her soul. Feeling his gaze following her, she turned away, practically gasping for air, as if the shock of seeing him, being so close to him, had stopped her from breathing.

She didn't realize just how stunned she was from this surprise encounter with Son Goten until she began walking briskly back towards her desk. She barely felt her feet moving across the carpet. But she somehow made it to her desk. Her breathing was shallow and quick. A soft sheen of perspiration began to explode onto her forehead.

_Had he recognized her?_ She didn't think so. She hoped that from here on in she could fade into the background and if he thought of her at all, it would be as part of the office furniture.

**Wow it's amazing how much you can write when you're listening to rock music LOLz. And yes I OOC'd Valese, she so much more tolerable when she not acting like a dimwit. So what do you think? Is it good so far or should I just stop here, leave a review and tell me what you think. Oh and for those of you have been reading Journey of a Warrior don't worry I'm not giving up on that story I'm actually in the process of writing the second chapter and hope to be posting it soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the reviews everyone! :) this next chapter's gonna be a little dark so be warned.**

XXXTITANIA SCARLETXXX**: Hehe yes I love listening to rock music while writing and to show for it here's the next chapter LOLz.**

H. Harlow**: You'll get your answers in this next chapter.**

Noorjehan Sheikh**: I'm not sure yet I might this fic about Goten and Bra so we'll just have to wait and see.**

msanimegeek**: I'm glad you like it so far and yes Valese is so much better like this. Pan I'm not sure yet but I'll keep that option opened and no Mr. Phoenix doesn't know anything about Bra's past and he only knows that Goten went to prison for manslaughter cause that's all Goten would tell him.**

Wacey**: It's gonna get a little intense believe me.**

Chapter 2

It was January. Bulla stared at the calendar above her desk. Goten had been at Lilac's for over a month, and they had little contact with each other. Occasionally she saw him in the break room grabbing a cup of coffee and a snack. Once he was taxiing down the runway when she went out to tell Mr. Phoenix he was wanted on the telephone. Then there were those brief occasions when Goten conferred with Mr. Phoenix in his office.

Bulla busied herself in her work and had relaxed into thinking they could go on this way indefinitely.

Valese slid out from behind her desk and walked across the office towards Bulla. There was a distinct look of frustration in her brown eyes.

"Well what's bothering you?" Bulla asked.

"I've tried _everything_ to get him to notice me," Valese announced with a flourish of her hands, indicating mock despair.

"Who?" Bulla asked, knowing full well who she was talking about.

"You know very well who. Mr. Mystery Man, the Lone Wolf." She held out her hands palms up. "What does a girl have to do? Have I lost my charms? Are my looks just fading away? Tell me, maybe it's better if I know right now."

"I don't think so," Bulla said, smiling, "Maybe you should just write him off as the one that got away."

"No! He's a challenge, and it only makes him all the more interesting." Valese paused soberly for a long moment. "You know I've tried everything. Everything! I tried bumping into him at the coffee machine, I've flirted outrageously with him, and I've used my most brilliant smile." She smiled showing off her beautiful white teeth and batted her thick dark eyelashes provocatively. "I've introduced him to people, thinking, maybe he was just a little shy, and I tried to draw him out. But that one is like a closed fortress. You can't even get close. I hate to admit this, but I even went out to the parking lot and let out the air out of one of my tires when I knew he would be passing my car on his way home." She looked down at Bulla and rolled her eyes dramatically. "Well I was getting desperate."

"You didn't."

"I did," Valese replied, unashamed, but looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening.

Valese really had it bad, Bulla thought as she listened with her head propped up by her hand. It was truly amazing the lengths the girl was willing to go to, in order to get Goten's interest. Bulla thought, maybe that Valese had made herself so obvious that she had possibly ruined whatever chance she had, but she would never say that to her friend.

"Maybe he's already got a girlfriend somewhere and he's just not interested in female company. He's happy with what he's got."

"My instincts tell me no," Valese continued stubbornly. "He keeps himself so…apart. I think there's something about him. I don't know what it is. I can't put my finger on it exactly. There's something different about him."

Bulla felt the alarm bells go off in her mind. She didn't want Valese's suspicions provoked. She didn't want her to know about Goten's time in prison. It could be dangerous. Valese was not the most closed mouth of people, which was putting it lightly. She had her good points, but being discreet was not one of them.

"I think we should respect a person's privacy. Don't you? People have a right to keep to themselves if they want to. If he wants to be so self-contained, like a fortress, as you put it, that's his business. Some people are awkward in social situations and it's a waste of time trying to get them to be what they simply aren't."

"I'd go along with that. But he's not shy. I'd bet my life on it. It's something else. I just don't know what." A puzzled frown creased her brow. "Have you seen him up close yet?"

"Yes." Bulla studied her fingernails intently, not wanting to give away the devastating effect he'd had on her.

"Well?! You're not going to tell me that you don't find him attractive!"

Bulla had to agree. There was something about Son Goten that set him apart. He projected something dangerous. Only she wasn't quite sure what it was. There seemed to be a seething mass of emotions inside him that threatened to break the bounds of restraint. There was suspicion about him that bordered on hostility. She pitied the person who unlocked the restraint, who unwittingly triggered the release. It would be foolishness to say that she didn't find him attractive. In spite of his wary demeanor, he had a strong intellectual appeal that made women's heads turn, while his determined strength made men respect him.

"I think he's attractive," she replied finally.

"I just knew you were going to say it eventually." Valese sound so smug.

"But when you're interested in someone else, you tend not to pay too much attention," Bulla added, trying to cover up her attraction to Goten. "Besides, looks aren't everything."

"But he looks like he's got everything else too." Valese laughed with irrepressible delight. "Alex says he's one of the best pilots he ever had ex cetera and so forth." She was like a blood hound that couldn't be shaken off track once she picked up the scent. Bulla wished they could just drop the subject.

"What did he do when you did manage to speak to him at the coffee machine?" Bulla asked, suddenly curious to know how Goten reacted. "And what happened when he saw your flat tire?"

"Oh, he answered in monosyllables at the coffee machine. Not exactly encouraging when you're trying to make a friendly conversation. I don't think he spoke one complete sentence. And when he saw me struggling with the flat tire, he came over and asked if he could help. I said I would be very grateful if he would. He then went to work and finished in about ten minutes flat. I asked him if he would like to join me for a cup of coffee. He made some polite excuse and disappeared into the night. I think he managed to complete one sentence that time." She frown suddenly. "You don't think he's one of _those, _do you?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"I don't think so," Bulla replied, amused.

"Yeah, you're right. I guess I have to face the facts," Valese added glumly. "I don't seem to turn him on." She smoothed her sunflower-yellow dress over her hips. Bulla breathed a silent sigh of relief, glad that the conversation about Goten was coming to an end. Valese started to leave, then impulsively swung back around, brown eyes flashing with sudden enthusiasm.

"Are you going to the festival?"

"What festival?"

"The national Hercule Satan day festival of course. It's _the_ big annual event in this town. It's the only thing that ever happens here. They always have it at Lilac Park every year. The whole thing is financed by small businesses, the Diary Dream, Lilac Bank, and so forth."

"I'll have to think about it," Bulla said.

Valese's phone rang on her desk, and she rushed to the other side of the room to pick it up.

Bulla plunged back into her work, pushing the festival to the back of her mind and hoping that Valese would soon forget all about Son Goten. She was completely absorbed in her work, until a shadow fell across her desk. With a sense of unease sliding through her, she raised her gaze slowly to meet Son Goten's charcoal, fathomless eyes. She was unable to hide the quick response. He walked like a jungle cat, she thought, as her breath seemed to jam painfully in her chest and that strange breathless sensation attacked her again.

"Either I seem to be making a habit of taking you by surprise or you're the jumpiest woman I've ever met," he said in a low, mocking voice.

He stood towering over her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his faded leather jacket. She looked at him tongue-tied while shafts of excitement flowed along her nerve endings. He had the most devastating effect on all her senses she realized, as her gaze traveled over swiftly before she spoke. He wore a crisp black shirt that seemed to outline ever muscle of his torso. His black eyes studied her, playing havoc with her pulse rate.

"May I help you with something?" she finally asked with hesitant politeness, trying to maintain her distance. Her pulse rate seemed to be exploding under the pressure of his nearness and his silent examination of her.

"I was looking for Alexander Phoenix. He's not in his office," he replied with casual indication of his dark head. This was the second time she had seen him up close, she had to admit. He had the flawless handsome features of man that should be modeling for one those men's clothing catalogs.

"I think he might be out in the loading bay," she replied quickly.

"I've checked. And I looked out on the airstrip. Where else could he be?" his hostile glare changed slowly to languid male scrutiny that told her she was being thoroughly and systematically examined and he didn't care too much if he was making her uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it, and she sensed that he was speculating on how she rated against the other women he had known. Her face began to burn. His sharp gaze didn't miss it. And she thought she detected a flicker of some emotion in his look, but it was quickly hidden and the unreadable mask was back in its place.

"You might want to try the machine shop. He sometimes stops in there to talk with Travis, the head machinist."

"Thanks." He rewarded her with one of his rare smiles.

Her gaze followed him as he disappeared into the hangar. She let out a sigh of relief. Feeling Valese's eyes on her, she looked up and then quickly bent her head down. The intense annoyance on Valese's face left Bulla uneasy.

That evening Bulla couldn't seem to get Goten out of her mind. Home from work, she'd headed straight for her small box-sized kitchen. It was barely big enough to swing a cat in, she thought critically. Yet a hefty portion of each weekly paycheck had to be set aside for the monthly rent for this modest apartment. But it was home and meant peace of mind, and there was no price tag one could put on that, she recalled grimly. She opened the freezer and pulled out a small container of grilled chicken and penne pasta in alfaido sauce to put in the microwave, her thoughts on the past.

There was a time when she would have given everything she had for this tiny apartment and for the peace and quiet it meant. It was an awful time, a time she was too ashamed to recall, a time connected with Goten. She pressed her hands to her temple as the memory hovered, a dark ominous shadow. Usually she could push it away, but tonight it insinuated itself into her conscious thought, slipping past her defenses like a silent marauder, like thief in the night.

The knife she was using to cut vegetables for the salad slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor unnoticed. Visions of a big empty house on a rainy Sunday afternoon focused clearly in her mind. She could see her stepfather banging around the house. He had been in one of his dark sulky moods; something had trigged it. She couldn't even remember what it was. Neither she nor Trunks, her brother, could ever figure out what started the moods off. It would never take much, some petty misdemeanor, some imagined thing she had done wrong, something she or Trunks had forgotten to buy at the store. It could have been eggs stuck to the frying pan, anything. Any tiny thing was enough to set off another vicious tirade. But this day had been different.

She had been study in her bedroom, listening to the latest rock hits on the stereo. It had been raining all day, and she was getting bored, bored, bored. As often happened, she had slipped into daydreaming, dreaming of herself as a fantastically beautiful woman, someone with feminine allure and devastating repartee, like her mother was. She experimented with her hair, sweeping it up on her head and then turning from side to side, this way and that before the dresser mirror. Oh, how she wanted to be just like her mama. Her mother had been such a beautiful, outstandingly gorgeous woman, who had made men's heads turn.

Bulla went to her closet, and dug through her closet till she found what she was looking for. It was a big box filled some of her mother's belongs. Oh how things had been so much happier when her mother was alive, Bulla thought as she opened the box. Now things seemed dark and sulky, her stepfather had sold the family business to a rivaling company after her mother had died, they had given him a generous price. The only things left of her mother's was this house and the few belongings in the box that Bulla had pulled out of the closet.

Bulla saw one of her mother's dinner dresses. It was an olive green crepe creation that suggested everything, yet revealed nothing. She pulled it out of the box. Trunks was out, so she didn't have to worry about him barging into her room while she was in the middle of dressing, he always had an annoying tendency to do things like that. He was at school, then he was going to hang out with some new buddy of his he meant at a club not too long ago, someone called Son Goten. Bulla had to stop to think of his name, though only half her mind was on Trunks' friend. The other half was on the alluring dress that seemed to dare her to put it on as she held it up against herself.

It was hard to keep track of all Trunks' buddies, even his girlfriends for that matter. He had so many it was like a revolving door in this house. There was always one friend after another asking for Trunks. And then the girlfriends. They never lasted long, any of them. He went through them like tissues, discarding them just as heedlessly and carelessly. None of them ever lasted as long as it took a person to get over a common cold, Bulla thought as she stripped off her jeans and blouse. Standing in her black strapless bra and bikini briefs, she slipped the dress up over her legs, shimmying into it, and then turned with barely restraint excitement to look at herself in the floor-length mirror.

It was provocative, even on her, she thought as her gaze slid over her budding, willowy figure. The green dress had tantalizing cutouts that revealed glimpse of skin and caressed her figure lovingly, clinging in all the right places, not missing a single curve. While she didn't quite fill the dress out the way her mother had, she was more than pleased with her blossoming femininity. She turned back towards the box, wanting to put the finishing touches to her exciting new image. She reached into the box and found her mother's makeup kit, which was crammed with every beauty aid known to woman, and decided to experiment. With strokes at first awkward and hesitant, she applied liquid makeup and blusher the way she had seen her mother do it, stepping back to survey herself critically at each stage of her handiwork.

As she was outlining the upper lids of her eyes with her mother's violet eyeliner, she could hear echoing noises in the kitchen that made her again aware of her stepfather's presence. He was probably looking for another beer, she thought with a frown. Even over the stereo music she could hear him banging around, his temper getting more vicious. He always drank too much on Sundays and got mean and aggressive. She wished he would play baseball again or tennis, anything to work out his frustrations, but he just drank and watched television and usually picked on her and Trunks.

Trunks would probably be getting out of his classes and heading home by now. Trunks was trying to get his grades up so that's why he was talking classes on the weekends as well as the weekdays. Bulla just hoped that when she went to college that she wouldn't be having a hard time with it like her brother seemed to. The thought suddenly eddied into her mind and canceled out the darker reflection of her stepfather. Bulla couldn't wait to see the results; whatever her mother had done always seemed to turn out well. After he came home, Trunks would most likely go out clubbing with that Son Goten fellow. They seemed to really be hitting it off, maybe Trunks would finally find himself a best friend.

Bulla picked out an eye shadow and turned back towards the mirror and, after a few deft sweeps of her finger, she noticed how miraculously her young eyes were given mysterious and sophisticated depths. Why, she looked like one of those fabulous models in the fashion magazines, she thought, amazed by her own reflection. Encouraged with the results, she applied a thick coat of mascara. It was truly amazing what makeup could do. She was transformed, utterly transformed! She never really experimented seriously before. She struck an airless pose and smiled, thoroughly fascinated by her own image.

With her hair swept up and makeup on, she thought she looked at least nineteen, maybe even twenty! She went back to the box to get a pair of her mother's strappy high-heeled shoes, slipped them on and walked back to the full-length mirror with a sumptuous but delicate swish of her hips, the way she had seen the models do it on those fashion shows she would watch sometimes. Why, it wasn't difficult at all. With a little practice she could be…gorgeous, too!

But her hair was wrong.

She surveyed it critically and released the clips to let it cascade down where it waved naturally to her shoulders. Usually she wore it back in a tight, high ponytail. This was more in keeping with her new image, more breezy and provocative. She imitated the models' walks again and almost let out a squeal of sheer delight, but caught herself just in time, thinking of her stepfather in the kitchen. She raised a slender eyebrow at her image in the mirror, mocking herself and laughing softly.

She was still laughing when the bedroom door burst opened. Thinking it was Trunks, she whirled around, her eyes widening in panic. Trunks would be thrown into a fit of laugher if he saw her like this. He would make fun of her for playing dress up. The thought flashed instantly through her mind as she turned to face the doorway.

But it wasn't Trunks. It was Yamcha, her stepfather. She drew in her breath sharply as she took in the picture he made standing in the doorway, his arms braced on either side of it, giving him a hovering, aggressive look.

His voice exploded in the bedroom and the words rattled through the air like a machine gun spitting bullets.

"You stupid empty-headed little bitch. You forgot to buy me razor blades! How can I shave without razors? Are you just stupid, or do you like annoying me?"

She couldn't answer and stood silently staring back at him, mute with sudden fear.

"I think you do it on purpose, because you're a little scheming bitch, aren't you, just like you're no good bastard brother!"

Yamcha was a hulking six footer, brawny and muscular; his bulk filled the entire doorway. Once he had been a good-looking guy, but since her mother's death, he'd gone to hell. A look of dissipation had crept in around his dark eyes and mouth. His shirt hung unbuttoned out of his casual slacks. The glint of a sliver chain caught her eye as she stared at him, stricken with increasing fear as he hung poised in the doorway, as though he were going launch an attack.

"My stupid good-for-nothing stepkids," he muttered beneath his breath.

Bulla shrank back. He was more drunk than usual, and that meant he was more dangerous than usual.

He suddenly straighten and pushed away from the doorway as his gaze began to take in her changed appearance.

"Well…" he said suddenly. "What do have here? Our shy little wallflower is starting to grow up."

He eyed at her unsteadily, and she felt a new, nameless fear unwinding and growing inside. She had always been afraid of Yamcha. His nasty turns and savage temper were something that she and Trunks constantly tried to get the better of. They had become extremely creative and skillful at it, since life with Yamcha was like walking on thin ice, and one had to maintain caution at all times or you'd find yourself falling into the abyss. Each of them protected the other. They had learned how to cajole him, humor him along, flatter his ego, and distract him. Any maneuver they could possibly think of they put to full use, and they always stood together. But Trunks was not here now.

"Oh, I was just bored. I found one of mama's old dresses and decided to play a little dress up." It was the truth, her fear made her sputter on. "She was so pretty, the real beauty of the family. Don't you think so Yamcha? I really miss her. I just wanted see if I could look anything like her." Bulla quickly dragged her mother's memory into the conversation as a kind of protective shield, because at one time in his own weird way, Yamcha had loved her mother. Why her mother had ever loved him, she wasn't at all clear about, but while her mother had been alive she'd had a stabilizing effect on his unpredictable temper, and he had never had the dark mood swings he seemed to be having more and more lately.

She picked up a tissue and hastily started to wipe away the makeup, the threatening feminine allure she had so innocently projected. His narrowed eyes glided over her, and she saw something kindling in them. He stepped away from door frame towards her.

"You are looking more like Bulma. You have some of her ways and personality. There's something about you," he murmured huskily. "Something about you that reminds me more and more of Bulma. The way you move, the way you walk, the way you hold your head and the way you look at people."

Mounting alarms grew inside Bulla. "Do you think mama would have liked the way I'm growing up?" she asked in a low voice, wanting some degree of normality, as the very air around them began to grow heavy with a component that was unfamiliar. Something that shouldn't be, something that was all wrong was happening between them! Desperation began to claw at her as panic seeped into her veins.

"Yeah I think she would have liked the way you're growing up," he said, getting even closer, "because I like the way you're growing up. She would agree with me that you're turning into one beautiful young woman."

He moved across the bedroom, and Bulla backed away in fright, trying not to panic. She watched in a kind of horrified, slow-motion fascination as he closed the distance between them. She couldn't move, but as his hand snaked out and he made a grab for her, she moved, but not quickly enough because, suddenly, she felt herself pulled up against him. She gasped and began to struggle wildly, but he was too big, too strong. His hands were like a steel vice on her soft body, and his breath reeked of beer, she sobbed and pushed furiously at the wall of his body.

He seemed oblivious to her frantic attempts to get away from him. "You could almost take her place," he whispered. "Would you like that, sweetheart? Would you like that? I would like that very much."

"Stay away from me!" she yelled hysterically. But his hand grabbed the hair at the back of her head and held it, held her head painfully locked, making her wince and cry out before his nasty, wet mouth covered hers. Her futile protesting moans were swallowed forcefully down her throat. He molded her body into his, and she felt him pressed against her thighs, his powerful body quickening against hers. The sensation repelled and sickened her.

He pushed her backwards, and she grew fearful as she knew they were staggering towards the bed. She scratched and kicked and tried to jam her knee into his groin, but he shoved her knee down, his breathing harsh and ragged. He grabbed her by the back of her head again and kissed her, his tongue thrusting deep into her month, and she had the feeling she was gagging as she twisted and kicked wildly against him. With increasing terror she felt him hard and ready against her.

"You're just like her," he said huskily, his eyes seeming to lose all life in them. "It's been so long, so long since I…you'll like it." his grip on reality was slipping away.

Her mind, too, spiraled off, trying to black itself out from what was going to happen. She had the vague sensation of her mother's beautiful dress being torn from her body and her panties being pushed down her thighs as he lowered her onto the bed. He was above her now, on his knees, with a leg on each side of her, his weight effectively pinning her down, and no matter how much she twisted and turned, she couldn't move. His hands quickly undid his belt and the zipper of his jeans, and slid down over her hips. She clenched her eyes shut, unable to look, and she heard her own piercing screams tear through the air over and over again. He was too busy stripping off his pants to cover her month. Then she heard front door slam, and Trunks burst into the room. Trunks' face was white with shock and rage.

"Get the fuck off her you bastard!" Trunks shouted at top of his lungs and grabbed Yamcha, giving him a painful punch to the face, sending him to the floor. "So help me, god! If you ever come near her again I'll fucking murder you!" With dazed eyes, Bulla saw that Trunks was shaking with anger. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles were turning white.

Yamcha looked up at Trunks, his pants unzipped down knees, exposing his green boxer briefs underwear, the dark look of aroused desire still in his eyes. He stood up and continued to stare at Trunks for several long moments, trying to clear his head, weaving slightly from side to side. Bulla remembered him running a confused hand through his hair, as if he were trying to straighten out the mess inside his head. With an air of dazed distraction he turned and looked at her lying half naked in a crumpled heap on the bed, weeping hysterically. Whatever it was that possessed him, suddenly retreated. He swore viciously to himself, quickly pulled his pants up, zipping them, and lurched from the room.

Trunks stared after him with narrowed eyes. He reissued his warning in low growling tones. "If you ever lay so much as lay a fucking figure on her, so help me, I'll have you locked up for rape or I'll kill you myself!"

"How do you know it would be rape?" Yamcha sneered.

Enraged, Trunks picked up the nearest thing and threw it at Yamcha. He laughed cynically and disappeared down the stairs. Trunks immediately locked the door and then unclenched his fists.

"Shit," he whispered. "How did this happen?"

Bulla could barely speak, barely get anything coherent out at all, Trunks had sat, wrapping a sheet around her quivering body and held her, rocking her to and fro. Finally, after five minutes of crying in her brother's arms, the story of how she had been adorning in front of the mirror poured out.

"Don't ever let him see you like that again! You're turning into a beautiful girl, Bra. I haven't said anything or made much of it because I was afraid something like this was going to happen one day. I hoped you wouldn't attract his attention because you never really bothered about your looks." He got up and reached into his back pocket grabbing a pack of cigarettes, then sat back down on the bed. He pulled out a cigarette and meditatively sat smoking.

Bulla had sat and watched him. She wished more than anything that her daddy were still alive, if he were alive he would have taught her and Trunks how to fight and then she would be strong enough to fight back. She would never have to be at the mercy of monsters like Yamcha ever again. Sensing her thoughts, Trunks wrapped his arm around her in a side hug, being careful not to scorch her with his cigarette.

"Don't worry. I'll always be around. You've got me. I'll never let him hurt you. I'll be more careful from now on. I'll be sure whenever I'm out, you're baby-sitting somewhere or staying with a friend, and when you're home, I'll be sure to be home too. That son of a bitch! Pretty soon I'll have a decent enough job and we'll be out of here for good."

Bulla was remembering the determined look on Trunks' face when the buzzer on the microwave shattered the vivid memory. She pulled out the bubbling chicken and pasta and placed it on the mat on the counter and then rooted the drawer for the silverware. With a knife, fork, and spoon gripped in one hand, she took a dish from the cupboard. She put the salad next to her dinner. When she removed the led, the steam rose in a mist before her eyes, and she slid onto the stool.

Staring into space, she ate without tasting the dinner she had so absentmindedly prepared. The horrible memory of her stepfather invading her bedroom faded away and another took its place. Suddenly a courtroom and a picture of herself sitting on the witness stand leaped into her mind as clearly as if it had happened yesterday.

She had been very young and very frightened when she had gotten up to testify that day, but there had also been the overwhelming desire to do what she had been told by those around her she _must_ do. Trunks had insisted that Bulla lie to protect him from going to jail. And Bulla had lied remarkably well.

She had pointed to the man across the crowded courtroom, looking fleeting first at her stepfather and then back at the accused, back to Son Goten. She knew what life without her brother around would mean; no one had to spell it out for her. She was consumed with fear at the thought of being alone with Yamcha in that house, at the thought of Trunks no longer being around to protect her. She had nowhere else to go. And Trunks, the very person who had always protected her, was now demanding that she help him. She had no choice, she couldn't let Trunks down; she couldn't stay alone in that house with Yamcha. She couldn't run away. The world was a frightening place for a sixteen year old who didn't have the maturity to face its harsh challenges. So she lied.

"Would you please identify for the jury, the person who was behind the wheel of the car when you saw the car leave your house with your brother in it on the night of the accident?" the prosecuting attorney had turned towards the jury, asking the question in a loud, clear voice that carried to the people in the back of the courtroom.

Bulla had slowly, like an automation, lifted her arm and pointed directly at Son Goten.

"He was the one," she had replied in a clearly audible but detached tone, her eyes looking straight through him as if he didn't exist. Then she had turned away. He had been staring at Trunks, his gaze a laser of enmity beaming across the space of the courtroom. There seemed to be an unspoken message that someday the score for this unspeakable injustice would be evened between them, but Bulla had turned away, thinking it would never touch her. She hadn't looked at him again during the entire trial. Only for that one moment. She had been asked a few questions regarding Goten and her brother, how often had he come to the house, and then been crossed-examined by the defense.

She had held up remarkably well under the cross examination. She had sensed the frustration of the defense counsel, who probably assumed at sixteen she'd be very malleable, easily tripped up. He must have experienced cold shock when she didn't break to the questions he fired at her in a continuous bombardment. It was not the power of her intellect but pure terror that had enabled her to give such a dishonest testimony. First, there was her overwhelming fear of her stepfather—she knew without a doubt that she would have become his sex toy without Trunks around to protect her, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would have abused her emotionally as well. In his desperation, Trunks had ponded this into her brain until Bulla was numb of all emotion except utter fear and the excruciating pressure of misguided loyalty towards her brother. It was those two dark forces that had kept her so cool and collected under the pressure. At the time, they had not permitted any other feelings to enter into her conscious mind at all, all other emotions were instantly and remorselessly blocked. Any guilt, any compassion she felt for Goten never had a chance to even surface, so powerful was the fear and the desire to help her brother, that other feelings were banished from her mind.

When the trial was finished, Son Goten had gone to prison to serve time for manslaughter. She remembered seeing a small item in the local newspaper afterward, and remembered she had felt nothing, absolutely nothing, just a curious detachment, almost as if had been someone else who had been there, not her. But she remembered the way he had looked in the courtroom, grim and silent, his dark ebony eyes boring into Trunks, who had betrayed him, and that was all Bulla remembered. That, and a sense of relief that her brother had not been convicted.

A few months after the trial, her stepfather had overdosed on alcohol and some pain medication and had died on the way to the hospital. They had felt nothing of Yamcha killing himself, just utter relief that he that he would never hurt them again. The house was sold, and Bulla and Trunks lived on the money until Trunks got a job. About a couple of years after that, her brother had gotten married to some blonde who worked at the same company as him. The family as Bulla knew it, had disappeared into the wind. She had to fend for herself. She started a new life, changed her name and moved to another city. She went through a succession of unsatisfactory jobs until finally she found Lilac's and an equally unsatisfactory series of motel rooms until she at last found her tiny apartment. She's managed alone ever since.

To her amazement, she began to discover that life was not always despicable and terrifying. It was as if she emerged from a dull cocoon and fluttered into a bright and beautiful new world. But in the back of her mind something developed, too, that she had not felt before, and it was the only tarnished dark spot in her new bright world. A sense of guilt began to emerge. Her conscious, frozen by fear at the time of the trial, was beginning to thaw.

Now the full great realization of what she had done surfaced, traveling from the preconscious level through to her conscious mind, bursting through from time to time like a dark stream. She had pushed it as far as she could, reminding herself again and again of the greater circumstances, but nothing could block the dark tide of guilt that threaten to overwhelm her. She had forgotten that it was her brother who actually committed the crime, that it had been Trunks who had been driving the car, that it had been Trunks who had moved Goten into the driver's seat after he had been knocked unconscious when Trunks had driven the car into a telephone pole. He'd been desperately trying to avoid hitting an old man and his granddaughter who been crossing the road. The little girl had been pushed out of the by her grandfather in time but the older man didn't make it. Trunks never seemed to suffer any remorse before he conveniently disappeared.

Suddenly weary, Bulla sighed. She was too tired and drained to think anymore. She couldn't undo what had been done, she told herself for the hundredth time. She recalled once again how she had looked then. It wasn't surprising that Goten hadn't recognized her. When she looked at snapshots, she hardly recognized herself at that age. She had changed so much. She been so painfully shy that when Goten had come to the house to meet her brother to go clubbing, he had barely noticed her.

Was there any way she could ever make it up to him? She wished that somehow she could put it right, but how could anyone compensate for years lost out of his life or the anguish of what he had been through? Her common sense told her there was no way that any attempt in that direction would be a fool's errand. She had to be a complete idiot to even think there might be a way to make it up to him. But the thought kept going over and over in her mind, there just had to be something she could do.

_**Well that's it for now, review and tell me what you thought. Oh, and before you ask no Vegeta couldn't be wished back with the dragonballs. One, he died once before and therefore can't be wished back with the earth's dragonballs. Two, since Goku's dead there's no wishing anyone back with the Namekian dragonballs since Goku was the only one who could locate New Namek. Bulma knew this and moved on with her life and eventually married Yamcha. When Bulma died, Yamcha went to alcohol to ease the pain, till eventually he became a drunk and took his anger out on Trunks and Bra. Bra was three when Vegeta had died and ten when Bulma died, she and Trunks are eight years apart in age. Hope that helps if you were confused.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone how was your Christmas? Mine was great, spend it with the family at my grandparents' house so that was interesting. Anyways, thank you all for the reviews and let's get into the next chapter! **

Chapter 3

"You didn't forget did you? Today's the festival at Lilac Park." Valese's voice seeped into the telephone wire with energy and enthusiasm. "Say you'll come along," she begged.

Bulla wasn't dressed yet and was still wearing a baby blue terry-cloth robe, belted at the waist, her bare legs and feet exposed by the brief hem. Her gaze traveled towards the window. It was a beautiful day, and really have anything to do.

"Common," Valese urged. "It was great last year. Everyone was there. They showed reenactments of the Cell Games, The food was fantastic, and they had live entertainment in the evening, a really nice soft rock group, there's even sports and canoeing during the day. It didn't finish till after midnight. Would have be a complete dolt to not want to come, since nothing else really ever happens in this town."

Valese's enthusiasm was contagious. Bulla felt excited by the prospect of going to the festival. She hadn't been to anything like fun like a festival since she was a small girl, before her father had died and her stepfather had come into her life. Those times had been among the happiest of all her memories of her childhood. A desire to recapture some of the youthful joy surged inside her. It was deciding factor, that, and the fact that Valese was inevitably good company.

When they reached the park, the afternoon seemed to explode with children shrieking and shouting as they burned off all the sweets they had consumed, running in and out of the park tables and around the adjoining areas while the more calm grown-ups nearby engaged in quieter conversation and music drifted over everything the nearby tent. All Bulla's senses were filled with the beauty of the golden, relaxed afternoon and the swaying dappled shade of the willow trees that enveloped the people sitting beneath them. There were countless decoration the said "Happy Hercule Day!" and other such adornments that gave praise to the World Champion. She felt suddenly charged with new energy and the heady enthusiasm that comes at such moments like this. She gazed slowly to the picnic tables, glad that she had come.

"See what I mean," Valese announced gleefully. "Mother Earth and Father Time are here and they are dancing." Bulla looked at her a bit weirdly.

"Charlotte's Web," Valese said, waving it away with a hand. "I do hope there are a few single men floating around somewhere," she added dryly. "I know there's a crowd from the aviation because at least a half dozen people told me there were coming."

Bulla scanned the faces at the picnic tables. The leafy bows of trees shaded the people spread out beneath them in human mélange. Mothers hugging their young babies, husbands sitting nearby, grandparents reclining in brightly colored lawn chairs. Across the adjoining lawns and playing fields, unprepared games of softball and volleyball had sprung up. In the distance were shining waters of Lilac Lake, a man-made lake joined together by series of canals and dotted with canoeists.

As Bulla and Valese edged their way along, waving through the crowds and the tables of the picnicking area, several colleagues from Lilac Aviation waved to them and shouted. They waved back eagerly and walked over to join them.

"Come and sit down with us. Have you eaten anything yet?" Karen Wu, one of the bookkeeper, pointed to the food stands that lined the picnic area. "There's chili beans, hot dogs, hamburgers, potato chips, barbeque, ranch, fruit, cookies, cakes, pies. You name it, they've got it. And the tab is being picked up by the local businesses. Everybody's been stuffing themselves. I'm glad you both could make it. Sit down chat awhile," she added, pointing to an empty seat beside her and another one on the bench diagonally across from her. Warmed by her friendliness, Bulla and Valese sat down.

"How long have you been here?" Bulla asked.

"Since about ten o' clock. I always like to come in time for the Cell Games reenactment. I come every year and wouldn't miss it for the world. The Hercule Day festival is the social highlight of the year for a small like Lilac. You've been before, have you?" Karen directed her question at Bulla as plastered a hot dog with muster and relish.

"No, I've only worked the aviation for about a year, and when I came to town last year the festival was already over and done with. But I've heard people talk about it from time to time in the break room."

"Well, once you've been to one, I doubt whether you'll ever miss another one. It's a wonderful day out for the entire family. There's something for everybody."

"Are there many people here from Lilac Aviation's?" Bulla asked. She scanned the picnic area, not able to think of anything else to say for a moment and wanted to avoid an embarrassing lull in the conversation.

"Nearly the whole clerical department is here. Alex and his wife and his kids are here with their families. Then I saw a couple of the mechanics and their families and some of the pilots. They were all playing softball over there. That new pilot Alex hired was playing too. He's awfully good-looking. I don't know his name. Keeps to himself, doesn't he? I think they're still playing, as a matter of fact, if you want to go and watch them," Karen said, turning and shading her eyes with her hand as she looked towards the playing field.

Valese leaned forward immediately. "Did you hear that!" she whispered excitedly as Karen excused herself and went to talk to a woman who was waving to her from several picnic tables down.

"Yes, I heard. I thought you crossed him off your list," Bulla reminded her with a hint of edginess creeping into her voice. "You said he wasn't interested."

"I'm going to have no more try. Persistence pays off," Valese added resolutely.

"Not in everything," Bulla said.

Valese was ignored her comment. "Common. Let's go watch the softball game."

"You go. I'll say here," Bulla said, hanging back. The last thing she wanted to do was to attract the attention of Son Goten again.

"Come with me. Please," Valese begged. "You've got your mystery man. Give me a chance. I need some moral support."

What could she do? Bulla didn't think Valese needed any kind of support; she seemed to be more in need of restraint. But Bulla didn't want arouse Valese's suspicions or get her angry, so she rose reluctantly and walked alongside her, wishing fervently she hadn't come to the festival at all now.

As she walked, she tried to think of some way out of this rapidly unfolding situation that was troubled with all kinds of alarming possibilities.

"Look, there games breaking up. They're finished, there's nothing much to watch," Bulla remarked with relief, catching hold of Valese's arm and gently trying to pull her back in the direction of the picnic tables.

"Oh yes there is," Valese whispered victoriously. "There he is. Let's go say hello."

"You go say hello. I'm going back to go get something to eat. I'm feeling pretty hungry."

"Don't go. I need you with me!" Valese smiled at the group of players heading off the field towards the drink stand nearby. "I think I'll have a cool drink. How about you?" she asked in a clearly audible voice for the benefit of those approaching.

With a little sigh of resignation, Bulla swung back around and immediately saw him. He was taller than the other men, so he stood out. Without his usual leather jacket, his well-toned frame was exposed. He had on a navy blue T-shirt, which showed off ever muscle in his shoulders, arms and broad chest, and faded jeans, that clung to his long leg and rode low at his hips.

_Good god! Where did this guy workout?! _Bulla's mind seemed to scream.

As he walked across the field with the other pilots and mechanics, his head turned slowly towards her, singling her out of the crowd as if drawn by some invisible radar. A strong, undeniable current shot through her. Had he recognized her? As the men moved closer, his gaze pinned and held her with its slow, sweeping and very male appraisal. She had worn a light bubble gum blue dress with full skirt that came down to her knee and a fitted bodice with a halter neck that outlined her full breasts. Again, he made no effort to conceal his all-too-clear interest. She flushed under his lingering inspection. She tried to hang back and impulsively started to turn away, almost without realizing what she was doing.

Valese sensed it, and her hand clamped on Bulla's arm. She hissed in her ear through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare leave me here on my own, or I'll strangle you with my bare hands."

"I wasn't going anywhere," Bulla said laughing nervously, as she felt a tremor run through her.

The mechanics and pilots recognized Valese and Bulla from the offices at the aviation. "Do you two want to have a go?" one of the mechanics asked, as held out the bat.

"No, thanks," Valese said in her sing song voice.

"How about a canoe race?" another suggested with a gleam in his eye. Valese shook her head again as Bulla stood silently watching.

"The last time I went out in a canoe, my date wouldn't speak to me for a week. Because we went round and round in circles."

The men laughed.

"Oh there's a trick to it," another offered.

"Yes, but I never discovered what it was."

Common, we'll show you."

In spite of her discomfort, Bulla began to smile at the good-natured verbal jousting going on as Valese resolutely declined their invitations. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, going into the mysteries of paddling a canoe. Bulla looked up and found Goten studying her silently.

The smile faded from her face. _Oh god, _she thought in quiet desperation, he singling her out. It was no longer a fear of recognition that surged through her, it was something else infinitely more potent. The lighthearted banter over canoeing faded into the background as she took in every detail; his black hair that was spiked up in that gravity defying way, the fine shine of perspiration on his forehead, the navy blue T-shirt clinging to him. She tore her gaze away breathlessly as one of the yelled, "Why don't we cool off and go for a swim instead!"

Bulla felt instantly relieved, as if the man had come to her rescue. There were shouts of agreement to hurry it up because they only had a short time before the sun set. They quickly downed their drinks. Then all of them, including Goten, disappeared down the pathway leading to the changing rooms.

Valese and Bulla watched them go. "He's really a closed book, that's all I can say," Valese commented. "He never says more than two words at a time, he say _that_ much if he can get away with it."

Bulla, still wrapped in the effects of Goten's silent inspection, thought shakily that he didn't have to say anything. "Have you finally given up on him?" she asked.

"Yes, I concede defeat. It's impossible to get to know that one. Oh, well, there are other fish in the sea," Valese added bouncing back with characteristic optimism. Nothing kept Valese down for long, it was one of the most attractive sides of her personality and one of the things Bulla liked about her most.

They stood for a while, sipping their drinks, watching the musicians under the pavilion getting ready to play. Bulla stood wrestling with the strange sensations Goten had stirred up inside her.

"Let's stay here for a while," Valese suggested. "The band will be playing soon. They're a group from Tokyo, with high hits on the charts."

"We haven't eaten yet though," Bulla said, stalling. "We can come back when the music starts up." She looked over to the water where she could hear the distant shouts of voices. She turned away, relieved to be distanced from those enigmatic black eyes.

The stared to set and the lanterns were lit up throughout the whole park and the tent holding the band. Valese was growing increasingly impatient at Bulla's side, she was eating slowly and dragged out the meal for as long as she possibly could. She knew that the men would have finished their swim and changed, and she wanted to avoid meeting Goten again.

The melodic, fun rhythms of soft rock music floated across the whole park, instantly flooding the atmosphere with a phlegmatic mood. People began to drift towards the pavilion.

Valese urged Bulla along. "We'll never meet anyone sitting over here. Common, let's go already!" Reluctantly, Bulla followed.

When they reached the edge of the now-crowded pavilion, a young man from the accounts department at Lilac Aviation immediately engaged Valese in conversation. Bulla stood listening to the music.

"Do you like soft rock?"

Startled, she swung around and herself face-to-face with Goten again. He had changed after swimming into a white shirt, and dark fitted blue jeans. Her gaze swept over his physique and stunning good looks. She swiftly reprimanded herself silently, telling herself that she had to stop reacting so visibly every time he came near. But it was too late. She could see the expression in his eyes grow wintry and his mouth set in a serious frown, it was clear that her edginess irritated him. He continued to study her with something in his eyes that was close to amusement mingled with scorn.

"Tell me something," he said evenly. "Does the entire human race scare the hell out of you, or is it just me? I don't remember ever having this effect on a woman before. I used to think some women found me attractive. But maybe I was getting full of myself. Well, there no chance of that when I'm around you," he went on, as Bulla stared back at him dumbstruck. "Because when I'm around you, I get the feeling that I look like a Cyclops, or maybe even Frankenstein on a bad day." His mouth quirked into a rusty smile, but there was an undercurrent of bitterness eddying beneath his words, mixed with the teasing sensuality that seemed to come easily to him.

She burst out, laughing. It came partly from the expulsion of tension and partly from the humor in what he said. A man with a sense of humor was always an attraction to her, and she responded easily, almost without thinking.

"I know for a fact that women found you attractive," she said immediately, thinking of Valese, not to mention herself. "And you're quiet good-looking. You don't remind me at all of Frankenstein." She paused for effect. "He was green and full of bolts you know." Bulla laughed softly, trying to cover up the anxiety that was building inside her underneath the surveillance of those silent black marauding eyes.

"Was he now?" Goten retorted dryly as his gaze slid from her head and lingered on the plunging halter neckline then slipped down to her legs and back up again. He was angry, she could see that, but he was also interested. Very interested from the look in his eyes.

"You still haven't told me why you nearly jump out of your skin whenever I'm around."

And he's also not easily put off, she quickly noted. But then she wouldn't have expected anything less from him. She tried tossing away his observations as if they were completely ridiculous.

"You must be imagining things. I don't jump," Bulla murmured softly.

Goten didn't say anything for a long moment, his ebony gaze turning into a mystery. When he did speak, he gave added emphasis to his words, saying them slowly, the look in his eyes underscoring his meaning, so that there would be no missing his intent.

"I may imagine things about you, but that's not one of them," he said quietly with the same searing sensuality she had seen glimpses of before. His words sent a current flooding through her.

He continued to watch her closely before he continued. "You jump like a scared rabbit whenever I'm around, and I want to know why." The wary almost hostile look returned. His face was partly in shadow and partly illuminated by the lantern swinging overhead in the evening breeze making Goten seem more dangerous than usual.

"That's not true," she said defensively, leaning back against the post that supported the roof of the pavilion, trying to strike a casual pose under his probing gaze.

His eyes narrowed even more—if that's even possible—at her continuous denial of the obvious. He wasn't going to be deterred. He moved one arm up and rested it on the overhang with deceptive nonchalance, so that he was peering down at her as she stood with her back against the post.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Bulla reaffirmed boldly, still persisting in her lie as she experienced a kind of butterflies-in-the-stomach sensation of him being so close, pinning her to the post and holding her captive with those mysterious dark eyes.

"Lair," Goten accused softly. "We both know you do, and we both know why," he said with an accompanying ruthless twist of his mouth.

His words made her begin to shake, as Bulla thought he had finally recognized her. She stood mutely looking up at him, not daring to speak or move at all, and suddenly feeling light-headed and dizzy.

They were standing at the edge of the pavilion off to one side. The music in the background kept their voices from carrying so that no one could hear them. But they could hear each other plainly enough.

"You know about me, don't you?" he demanded in a voice that was like Antarctic ice as he overshadowed her.

Bulla relaxed visibly. Goten hadn't recognized her. She breathed in deeply and shakily with relief. His scent was arousing her senses. She suddenly felt drugged by his nearness, and her whole body seemed to be rendered boneless by it. She experienced the strange sensation that if he reached out for her at that precise moment, he could have had her. The thought almost unnerved her completely. To offset the potent effect he had on her, she persisted in her denial, hoping to bluff her way out of the increasingly fraught situation. It was if he had a net around her and was slowly drawing it in tighter and tighter, so she pretended complete ignorance.

"Know what about you?" She laughed softly. "I don't know anything about you," she added on and another shaky note, and started to shift away from the post, wanting only to escape from Goten's burning inquisition. His other hand came down like a guillotine blade on the other side of the post, cutting off her escape route, trapping her.

"You know about me. Don't you. _Don't lie,_" he said in a deadly soft tone.

The words, "don't lie" had a significant effect on her. She had lied once where he was concerned. And the results had been catastrophic. She wouldn't lie again. She lowered her eyes, partly from remorse, then she looked up at him through a screen of blue lashes.

"Yes. I know," she finally admitted quietly.

Goten's gaze raked her. His hands reached out and closed around her upper arms, and he dragged her away from the post, as if he despised this nonchalant deception she had been perpetrating and as if he wanted to emphasize what he was going to say next and make sure she listened to every syllable. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the pavilion. His voice was low-pitched, but strong emotion poured into every word as he spoke, so that his words vibrated through her entire being as he ground them out.

"I want you to know that what _I've got _is not catching. I'm friendly and peace loving when I'm not harassed. I even have a brother, sister-in-law, and niece who find me lovable. I do not carry a deadly weapon around with me. I would also like to add that apart from that one black period in my life, I was never in trouble with the law or anyone else for that matter." His dark eyes bit into her, and Bulla looked back at him transfixed, feeling as though she were being stricken by a violent storm and that she was sinking under his spell as he went on. "But I don't expect you to believe that, because nobody ever does."

But she did believe him. She knew what he was saying was perfectly true.

"I believe you. I know you're not dangerous," she said, gazing steadily back at him, mesmerized by the strange undercurrents that seemed to be racing between them. Her words had a ring of truth, and she saw the expression in his eyes flicker fleetingly in disbelief. That wasn't the reaction he was used to getting from someone who knew about him, she thought, and she decided to capitalize on it.

"I just like to keep to myself is all. Like you do," she retorted airily. Even to her own ears, it sounded like a lame excuse, but she hurried on, intent on taking advantage of the slight edge she had gained in this strange duel of words and emotions the was passing between them. "That's why it may _seem_ to you that I'm avoiding you, but I'm not," she added with unconvincing assurance. His eyes bore straight through her, and the corner of his mouth developed a cynical twist. Her attempts at playacting disintegrated completely. Why did he have to be so— His voice snapped like a whip interrupting her thoughts.

"Try again. I'm not convinced," Goten stated in that hard, flat tone Bulla was coming to know. All his defense were up, and wariness swirled around him like an invisible barrier.

Bulla drew in another shaky breath. "It's the truth," she blurted, without thinking of the consequences.

"Prove it to me," he challenged quietly, holding her gaze locked into his.

"How?" she stared blankly at him, completely taken aback.

"Let me take out to dinner."

It was clear he was testing her. Bulla's lovely blue eyes widened in surprise. And again she saw the cynical look invade his now-leaden ebony eyes.

"You just gave me your answer. The truth is written all over your face." There was a note of resignation in his voice that tore at something soft and vulnerable inside her. "I would appreciate it, though, if you wouldn't go around telling everyone what you know about me," he added coldly.

Bulla could see all the shutters closing around him as he distanced himself from her. The emotion he had displayed was quickly withdrawn as his face became impassive.

"But that's probably asking too much of a woman."

It was his heart-wrenching cynicism and the parting shot that it would be expecting too much of a woman that did it.

"I…I'll go out with you," Bulla heard herself say. The words shot out of her mouth, springing from a deep well of guilt and on overriding desire to somehow make up for what she had done, what she and her brother had done to him.

He stared at her silently for a long suspended moment, then he released her arm.

"When?" Goten asked. The question was a swift sharp demand.

"When would you like?" she asked, thinking he would say next weekend.

"Tomorrow evening," he fired back, and this time she managed to suppress her surprise. Another wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had called her bluff.

She wanted to dispel that look in his eyes. "You have my word. I want to put you mind at ease." She said the words almost defiantly, gazing at him unwaveringly. "I haven't told anyone about you. Nor do I intend to tell anyone." He considered her words as though he neither believed nor disbelieved her, but would adopt a wait-and-see policy.

"Where do you live," Goten asked. "Or would you rather meet me somewhere, so I don't find out?" he challenged.

Bulla gave him instructions on how to find her apartment, and then he asked her where she would like to go.

"You decide," Bulla answered with a dry tremor in her voice, suddenly realizing, to her own shattered amazement, what she had done.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow evening at eight." A smile flickered. He seemed like a cat who had just caught himself a juicy little mouse. "I've got to leave now. I'm taking one of the mechanics home."

"I'll see then," she replied offhandedly, still striving to convey a casual air.

He didn't look convinced, and that same smile again curved the corners of his mouth as he pushed away from the overhang and walked off. Her gaze followed him, and breathed an audible sigh. Kami. What had she done? She couldn't believe she actually made a date with the man she had been bent on avoiding. Why? The question loomed in her mind like an accusation. Because she wanted to make up to him somehow for what she had done, she conceded slowly, because she felt guilty and couldn't stand to see that look of hardened sarcasm in his eyes. That look that said he expected nothing but harassment from people. That look that she felt partly responsible for putting there. That was the reason why, she told herself quietly.

_But was that the only reason?_ she wondered.

**Ooo! There going out on a date! Bra's not going be able to get out of this one is she? Well that's it for now so R&R please and tell me what you lovely peoples think**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys here's the next chapter YAY! Got it done this morning so I'm pretty happy. I've also been using this story for a fictional project in my writing class, just changed the names and toned down on the swearing and few other stuff and my teacher loves it! she told me that it kept her on the edge of her seat so that really put a smile to my face. Anyways enjoy the chapter :)**

Chapter 4

The following evening as Bulla got ready for her date with Goten, she was distracted, her mind churning with misgivings. Had she been crazy to let him come here? She would just let him take her out this once. That was all. It would prove to him that she wasn't avoiding him because of what she knew about him. He would see that people would give him a second chance, she told herself, as she kept her eye on the clock. But she didn't face to the other feelings that were causing havoc within her. The way he made her feel, the fact that she found herself wanting to go out with him, the sheer excitement that flowed through her entire being. No, she convinced herself that it was just this one time that she would go out with him. It was for his benefit that she was doing this. Satisfied with her conclusions, she look at her appearance critically.

She had chosen a spaghetti strap black dress the shaped every curve of her bodice perfectly and came just above her knees, she put on a fitting jacket in soft white wool. The jacket could be removed if it was hot in the restaurant. She slipped on black patent-leather pumps, balancing on first one leg and then the other while one hand rest on the dresser top. She then picked up a brush and ran it through her hair which cascaded in a flood of waves down to her waist. As she was clipping on some golden hoop earrings, she wondered if she should wear her hair up or down.

She leaned forward, peering into the dresser mirror and put the finishing the touches to her makeup. She was still debating about her hair when the doorbell rang, interrupting the silence. Picking up her handbag, she went to answer the door.

A strange broad-shouldered man in an expensive looking deep blue business suit, light blue shirt and matching deep blue tie stood gazing at her at her. After a double take, she realized it was Goten, transformed by his clothes and looking breathtakingly handsome. He seemed on edge and wary, as if he thought she might disappear at any moment in a wisp of smoke. His whole manner was infused by it, as if he expected to be turned down at the last minute, and he had put on that surface of hardness that protected him from the abuse he expected from anyone who knew about him. It wrenched something deep inside Bulla, and whatever misgivings she'd had about letting him come to pick her up at her home and take her out were erased.

"I thought you might have changed your mind." A soft challenge flickered in the expression of his harden, good-looking face and adamant eyes.

Who could blame him, she thought. He had every reason to think that way.

"No, you're stuck with me. I haven't changed my mind." She laughed softly, skillfully turning the tables.

A rarely used smile caught at his mouth, and they left the apartment and walked out into the cool night air to his car. It was one of the latest models, and she wondered how he managed it. It couldn't be easy to get credit to finance a car when you had a criminal record. He must have noticed her assessing gaze, because as he opened the door to the Jaguar, he enlightened her.

**(A/N: That is a car right? A Jaguar? I'm not very good when it comes to cars and their names to me a car is car but I think that's what I remember that's what my brother's friend called his car. He practically worships that thing LOLz. Anyways, back to the story.)**

"If you're wondering how I managed to get a new car, I want to reassure you that I didn't steal it. When I got out, my brother and sister-in-law figured I would need some money to help me get back on my feet, they pretty much gave me more than a generous amount. They were the only ones who believed in me," he added grimly. "They knew that all my savings went on expense for the trial." He seemed locked into a deep submerged anger.

"But money can never compensate for years stolen out of my life or the respect that I lost. Or the struggle I had trying to make my way back into the world once I was released," he added, unable to disguise the bitter edge to his words. "I wasn't guilty, you know. I was convicted of manslaughter—but I wasn't the one driving the damned car!"

She turned away, her eyes suddenly haunted, not wanting him to see her expression, and she slid into the passenger seat. He slammed the car door and looked at her for a long moment before he walked around to the other side of the car.

They dined at an exclusive out-of-the-way restaurant that severed French styled food and had beautiful violin music playing. And though they talked of many things, the conversation kept veering dangerously back to his imprisonment, as if it had some strange, fascinating magnetic pull that couldn't be avoided, as if it demanded to be discussed and gotten out of the way or else it would only cast a cloud over everything.

"What made you come to Lilac's for a job?" Bulla asked, wondering about the ease with which fate had thrown them together again. She had forgotten that at the time of the trial he had only recently graduated from the flyer's academy. It must have been mentioned during the trial, but it had slipped her mind entirely. If she had remembered she would never have taken the job with an air-freight company like Lilac's, she reflected regretfully. It was too late for the wisdom of hindsight now.

"I had a hard time finding a job at first when I got out," he said, signaling a waiter. He came and took their order and quickly disappeared.

"I had a succession of jobs before I came here, but they were only to fill my time. I always wanted to get back into commercial flying. But with my record I couldn't make the major airlines. And then I saw this job advertised. Alex seemed desperate for a pilot. That's why he hired me," Goten added sarcastically.

"He also thought you were a good man," Bulla interceded quickly, meeting Goten's face steadily. She saw something flicker in his eyes again. Which was just as quickly hidden. She decided to change the subject.

They talked at length about the aviation and how it had grown over the years and Alex Phoenix and other employees.

"What do you think if the men you work with? The mechanics you were playing baseball with at the park? They look like a lot of fun."

"They're a great bunch of guys."

"They seem to like you."

"They don't know about me," he asserted flatly as his expression hardened and his eyes became cold.

Bulla's slender fingers slid up and down the fragile stem of her glass. They couldn't seem to get away from his time spent in prison, she thought. The conversation swung back to it like a boomerang. She looked at him helplessly for a long moment, pleading with her eyes, not knowing what to say, thinking it was better to say nothing and let him direct the conversation. She didn't seem to be doing a very good job of it. His expression softened. And the creases around his mouth deepened as he treated her to another one of his rusty smiles. Everything inside her seemed to melt.

"I'm sorry. I've developed a natural suspicion of everyone and everything, especially when I'm around people who claim to be my friends. It was a friend who…" He apparently decided it wasn't worth going into. "I can't always control it. Maybe in time it will fade." He glanced over his shoulder, apparently to look for the waiter, but in reality to avoid her eyes.

"Do you hate all people?" she ventured quickly as a sense of guilt shot through her.

"Do I hate people? No." He laughed softly, a smile curving the corner of his mouth. "Would I be here now with you if I did? I don't hate people, especially not women. I'm not immune to women and their…obvious attraction, and most definitely not yours," he said, letting his gaze slide over her in a sizzling, lingering path. A heavy sensuality surfaced between them. "But I don't trust people an inch," he added.

A chill ran through Bulla at his words.

There was a group of musicians playing some slow romantic melodies. Goten glanced over at them and back at her.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked as he rose slowly from his chair. His ebony eyes spoke a silent message. It was clear he was trying to make amends and smooth over their awkward attempts at conversation.

"Yes," she said. Anything would be better than this, she thought.

They walked out onto the small, crowded dance floor, disappearing into the crush of people. Bulla looked up at Goten as his arm slid around her and he pulled her towards him. Her arm slid over his shoulder until her hand curved around his neck and seemed rest there as if it belonged, brushing against the dark hair above his collar. It was luxurious and thick, and her fingers sank into it. _So he doesn't gel his hair after all_, she thought.

They stared at each other without moving for a long moment. His eyes probed her with crushing impacted and a compelling need that required no translation. She felt an intense, devastating reaction to it and suddenly wondered what it would be like to have him make love to her. With burning certainly she knew he was thinking the same thing. What was even more shocking was that he didn't care if she knew. The look in his eyes told her he was past caring what people thought.

"I don't believe I've told you that I think you're the most beautiful woman I've met, before or since I got out. And I hope you can't read my mind, because you're going to be embarrassed if you can." He laughed softly and drew her closer.

Then they danced through two soft romantic numbers, not saying anything, locked into each other's arms and surrounded by the press of couples dancing around them. He held her tightly and pressed his face against her temple. A tremor ran through his powerful frame, as if some long repressed surge of pent-up desire was suddenly released within him.

"You feel so damned good," he murmured hoarsely in her ear. "Do you know that?" His low-pitched voice and the raw emotion in it assaulted all her senses, triggering a powerful surge of desire deep within her. She wanted to melt into him, to fill every nook and cranny of his body with her own soft curves. He sensed it immediately, and with an aching need, his hand slid to the lowest part of her back to press her into him.

"Do you know how many nights I lay awake in prison dreaming of holding a woman in my arms again? Someone just like you. When I got out, I thought no one like you would ever…"

His words sent searing guilt through her. A woman like her! She stiffened in his arms and pulled back. Enigmatic black eyes, searching her face, puzzled by the change.

"You don't know anything about me," she warned with a low, shaky tremor in her voice and a baleful expression in her big blue eyes. "I…could have done something…terrible."

He grinned disbelievingly down at her. They stood almost still, barely moving at all.

"I'll bet you've never even had a parking ticket."

He paused and then spoke slowly, watching her face closely for her reaction, his voice dropping softly and intimately. "I'd also bet there have been few men in your bed."

His words had an immediate dizzying effect, followed by a rush of something so inexplicable coursing through her that it unnerved her completely and left her feeling vulnerable, as if she suddenly found herself without clothes on in a room full of people. Other couples were moving around them. Goten and Bulla were both oblivious to everything and everyone but each other.

"You shouldn't talk to me like this," she murmured.

"I shouldn't?" he replied, looking completely unrepentant as his marauding eyes slid over her face.

With a bewildered distraction, Bulla wondered, Why me? He could have had any number of women at Lilac's or anywhere else for that matter. Why her.

Gazing back at him steadily, she blurted out her thoughts. "Why didn't find yourself a woman, any woman, when you came out?" she asked almost with a note of exasperation in her voice.

"It's not the same," he growled, drawing her closely into his arms again and nuzzling the side of her face. "I didn't want just any woman. It's just going through the motions, with someone who doesn't turn you on. By now you must realize the effect you have on me." His hand slipped down her back to press her into him again, and she felt as though she were being sucked down into some dark deep abyss. "If you let me, I'll show you that I'm not half as dangerous as I look. And maybe in time you won't jump out of your skin when I come near you."

She had the crazy desire to slip her hands his jacket to feel the hardness of his back under her hands and to move closer to him. She thought she must be losing her mind, and she rest her head against his neck, closing her eyes as a relaxed excitement spread through her. His hand moved instinctively over her hip, making desire flood deep within her. She heard him groan softly, and he suddenly molded her to him as if he could never get enough of her.

Neither one of them said anything. It was all too clear what was happening. She was intoxicated, she dimly realized. Everything about Goten was intoxicating. She breathed in his scent deeply as her face brushed the side of his neck just below his ear. Suddenly the music stopped and the band took a break. Goten and Bulla stepped back from each other, Bulla slightly dazed.

Her face was flushed, and she knew it was not from the heat of the dance floor but from the heat that was generated between the two of them. They moved back to the table, and she felt herself burning after the way she had responded to him. The look in Goten's eyes told her he had felt her undeniable response in his arms, that he hadn't missed the blush on her face and the dreaminess in her eyes that told of her swift arousal.

They both knew how things stood between them. The conversation was only superficial, while underneath swift strong currants passed between them. The irony was too much. Bulla wanted to laugh hysterically. Here she was with the very man she had planned to avoid at all costs. The man she had planned to keep a low profile around, who hopefully would find her indistinguishable from the furniture. And he had separated her from all that, singled her out, chosen her from everybody else, and now, irony of ironies, she found herself on a date with him and, to her stunned amazement, found herself strongly attracted to him both emotionally and physically.

The waiter appeared with their food, and they began to eat, talking of trivial things, deliberately avoiding the thorny subject of his past imprisonment. She learned of his youth, that his brother had raised him when their mother had died, about where he had grown up, where he had gone to school and that he had always dreamed of being a pilot. She told him a bit about herself, that her parents had both died when she was young, which was partially true. Her father had died when she was three, but her mother had married again and had not died until several years later. She told him that she been raised in a nearby town, giving her aunt's address as the place where she'd grown up. He seemed satisfied with that, though she noticed he watched her speculatively and didn't say much.

At the back if her mind she suddenly began to wonder what he would do if he found out who she really was. For some reason up until now she had only been obsessed with wondering if he would recognize her. She hadn't given much thought to what he would actually _do_ if he discovered who she was. Now it suddenly struck her like lightening. Would he try to even the score, try to extract some kind of revenge?

They went to see a movie after dinner. In the theater she found she was very much aware of him next to her. She had difficulty concentrating on the film, in fact, because of this strange heightened awareness she felt near him. When he stretched out his long legs, his thigh and knee lightly grazed her own and she felt heat rush her body, and she was glad of the darkened theater. His hand slid to hers and covered it, a simple gesture, but with him it seemed highly erotic.

The voice of common sense kept pounding in her head, warning her off. _No, no, it can't be. You've got to stop this. You mustn't see him again. When the evening is over, thank him politely and then never see him again. You are a fool if you don't, an absolute fool._

His hand tightened around hers, and he placed it on his knee.

She concentrated on the movie. The love scenes only heightened the sensations that were running in strong currents between them. She felt as though she had a bad case of sunburn on her face. In fact, her whole body seemed to be on fire. She was relieved at last when the movie came to an end and the house lights went on. They rose and moved through the crowd. She felt his hand rest possessively on her waist as they walked out into the cool night. The evening breeze felt good on her skin.

On the way back to her apartment in the car, he stopped at a traffic light and turned to look at her. His caracole-eyed gaze, which lingered lazily on her face, made her heart pound with excitement.

"Will you let me take you out again?"

She drew a long, deep ragged breath and stared out the window trying to stop the rush of emotions he triggered inside her.

"I don't know," she said evasively. _Use your head,_ her common sense ordered sternly.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" the cynicism that had been absent from his voice for most of the evening was now trickling back. His face became cold and impassive.

"I think it would be better for the both of us if we didn't…see one another again."

"Why?" The question was flat and brief. Her gaze swung to meet his. No attempt was made to disguise or soften the silent growing anger that accompanied the tension lines of his face.

"Because we both work in the same place. That's always tricky."

"Is that the real reason?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Liar." He laughed mockingly.

There was a sizzling silence. He drove at a fast clip then, ignoring her and concentrating on the road. She knew that she had angered him deeply. And she wanted to say yes and yield to her own desire. But the sensible part of her cried out silently that do so was playing with fire. She wished fervently that all of her could be wise and sensible. Her heart didn't feel wise, her body didn't feel wise. She responded to him like she had no other man she had ever met before and _that _certainly wasn't wise.

The car lurched to a stop in front of her apartment. "You don't have to see me to the door," she said quietly, thinking that he would want to get away from her as fast as humanly possible, but she was mistaken.

"I want to," he replied in a low-pitched, determined way that left no room for argument.

Without another word he slid out of the car, slammed the door hard behind him and walked around to her side. Avoiding his eyes she got out, and they walked toward her apartment door. It was shadowed by a large tree and shrubs, secluded from the street. As soon as they were there, she reached into her handbag for the key and started to murmur her thanks.

Strong hands gripped her arms, turning her around, and she saw a quick flash of intent black eyes before his mouth found hers with absolute accuracy. He trapped her against the doorway with long, drugging, hypnotic kisses. His mouth was tentative at first, coaxing a response. Then he broke off, and his mouth touched her cheekbones, the curve of her neck and then her lips again, leaving a trail of desire slowly unwinding deep within her. She tried pushing him away.

"Please stop," she whispered shakily as she struggled in his arms.

"I've been aching for this all night, and so have you. Don't tell me to stop, Bulla." The look in his eyes dared her to counter what he said. Then he lowered his head and kissed her with a burning, tormented hunger, as if she were compensation for all the deprivation he had endured. He pressed himself into her, so she could feel the sharp point of his hipbones, the long line of his thighs, the hard wall of his chest. She placed her hands on his shoulders, then slid to the back of his neck when his mouth parted hers. His tongue mated with hers with a hungry claim until he broke off the kiss again.

"Let me touch you," Goten whispered raggedly against the side of her face. "I want so much to touch you."

His plea, which held a note of longing, as if it were something he had dreamed of for an incredibly long time, held her mesmerized and receptive. Her own senses were spinning, and she made no pretest as his hand undid the buttons of her jacket and then moved a spaghetti strap down her shoulder, revealing her red strapless bra. She heard the swift sharp intake of his breath. Then his mouth closed over hers again, and his hand pushed up her bra till he could caressed one full breast. He groaned softly, deep in his throat, and his large frame shuddered. Bulla felt her legs turn to jelly as the growing urgency of his blind caresses aroused her in such a sensation she had never felt before. He lowered his head again and kissed her deeply this time and he pulled the other strap down and hands explored more boldly.

The touch of his on the bare skin of her breasts sent a flood of warm desire between legs as his thumbs caressed the soft nipples, arousing them into excruciatingly tender sensitive points. Then he pressed his rapidly hardening body against hers, whispering her name into the curve of her neck and telling her in no uncertain terms with the silent language of his body what he wanted. She moaned softly in response. She had never been aroused so quickly and so intensely in her entire life. Everything was fading around her except this swift, urgent desire that he was filling her with. The deepened now, and their tongues wildly. Eventually his hand to the lower part of her back, molding her intimately to him, and she felt the full power of him, his full arousal. It took her breath away and filled her with an intense desire to have him deep inside her. Her arms tightened, and her fingers sank into the think hair at the back of his head as she kissed him back wildly so they were locked into an embrace in which it was impossible to tell where she began and he left off.

He grimaced with need, sucking in his breath harshly, as one hand slid underneath her skirt and grasped her hip. Then something, some iron control, some sense of propriety, brought him back to his senses, and he hastily pulled her skirt back down and shoved himself away from her. Just as suddenly as he had begun the passionate embrace, he broke it off. He was shaking stunningly with the effort it was costing him. His breathing was noticeably disturbed, and raw desire was glazing his eyes so strongly that it was as if he had just been wakened from a deep sleep.

Bulla leaned her head against the apartment door. She closed her eyes, pulled the straps of her dress back up to her shoulders, and dared not look at him another second, knowing that she would be sucked back down into that quicksand of desire, struggling to regain some shred of self-control and to rise above it.

"I want to see you again." He laughed softly. "That's pretty obvious. You asked if hated all people. Well, I certainly don't hate you." His voice had deepened, made rough with aroused desire.

"I'll have to think about it," she murmured shakily. Her whole body seemed to still be fire from the rush of desire that sprung between them. He knew from the way she had responded in his arms and that kiss, that she was strongly attracted to him, she thought miserably. It was impossible to hide. There was no use denying it. Inexperienced though she was, she realized what was happening to them. She had known all along that she was attracted to him, but she never dreamed how powerful that attraction could be.

"What's there to think about? You don't like being attracted to an ex-con, a man convicted of a third-degree felony? Is there some problem with that?" He taunted her as if it were a big joke, when in fact she knew he was deadly serious from the look in his stormy black eyes. "Is that it? I want a truthful answer," he demanded. "I deserve that at least."

"I need time to think. I can't think straight when you're near me like this," she murmured, opening her eyes and blinking rapidly. "Everything gets indescribable." She saw a smile crook the corner of his mouth. That seemed to please him. The smile spread slowly across his face, transforming him again.

"The same thing seems to be happening to me when I'm around you," he replied huskily.

Bulla wanted to laugh, but she stopped herself. It really wasn't funny, she thought. No, it wasn't funny at all. It was bizarre, and she couldn't to do anything to stop feeling about him the way she did.

"I'll call you," he said in his low, quiet, very male voice.

"Alright," she agreed reluctantly. She hesitated. Then turned around. "Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it," she said rather idiotically, but she wanted him to know that he was good company.

The following week, Bulla avoided Goten like the plague. The rational, sensible part of her mind had taken charge, and when he called, she put him off. He called twice more, and twice more she found excuses. After that he didn't call again. She thought she had successfully discouraged him and settled back into the routine of her life. The days slipped by and nothing more happened. The weeks slipped by. She caught glimpses of Goten here and there. One day she was in the break room getting a cup of coffee. She turned around slowly with a steaming cup in her hand and found him looking straight at her. Her hand shook, and she spilled hot coffee on it, but she was barely aware of it. Something remarkably like an electric sting seemed to arc between them. He said nothing. He simply stared at her and then turned and walked away. When she went out to the parking lot that evening he was standing there.

"Why are you running away from me?" he demanded.

"I told you we work together," she said quickly, and moved to get into Valese's car. Her own car was in the garage being repaired, so she was getting a ride home. He leaned on the door so that she couldn't open it. There was that hard, implacable expression in his eyes again, the one he used when he wanted to hide his feelings from the world or when was determined to get what he wanted.

"Do you ever think about me?" Goten asked, leaning back against the car with maddening idleness and lit a cigarette.

"Those are bad for you," Bulla said impatiently. She couldn't get in on the other side of the car because it was parked too close to the wall if the parking bay, and he knew it.

"So I've been told," he said. "But then I don't pay too much attention to what people say. It's so rarely they tell the truth." He really was mad; she had succeeded in making him intensely angry. "I asked you a question," he added in that deadly calm, expressionless voice that needed her emotions.

Did she ever think about him? She almost burst into hysterical laughter. If she were honest, she would say that there were times when she couldn't seem to be unable to think of anything else. The feel of his arms around her, his mouth on hers seemed to be imprinted on her mind and her senses forever. A rush of heat surged inside her whenever she thought of those moments in his arms. She turned her face, hiding it away from him, so that he couldn't see the expression in her eyes when she answered him.

"From time to time," she said in an attempt to sound offhanded, to keep him from seeing the struggle that was going on inside her.

Suddenly his hand grasped her chin, and he gently pulled it around slowly to face him. The truth was mirrored in her blue eyes, and he saw it immediately. He towered over her, his overpowering physical presence so close she felt dizzy.

"I think you think about me a lot. And I'm here to tell you the feeling's mutual." His tone implied that she knew how much that was. "Let me take you home."

"I'm supposed to be getting a ride with Valese. My car's in the garage."

"Tell Valese that I'm taking you home. That she doesn't need to give you a ride," he said matter-of-factly, as if it were an everyday occurrence and there was no reason in the world why she should do anything else.

They looked at each other silently for a long moment. Bulla knew instinctively that if she did what he suggested, she might set something in motion with a momentum that nothing on earth could stop. Then to her own surprise she did what he said and returned to the office.

Valese was a little annoyed that Bulla had in effect succeeded, where she had failed with Goten. Yet she gave a resigned sigh and asked what happened to Bulla's other boyfriend. As she'd invented the boyfriend, Bulla invented a breakup. She didn't know what else to do. Things just seemed to be moving out of her control.

Goten drove her home in silence. At her apartment, he asked, "Can I come in and talk to you?"

"I don't think that would be wise."

"No, I guess it wouldn't," he murmured drily. "I still want to see you again, that's pretty obvious." He stared through the windshield as if it were difficult for him to say. "And I think you want to see me. But you're holding me off, and I'm not sure why." He paused and turned around to face her. "It's not because we work together." She watched him silently. In her silence was a kind of unspoken agreement. He got out and opened the car door for her. They stood facing each other.

"Why don't you answer me?" Goten asked in frustration. His narrowed eyes scanned her as if trying to see inside her head. At her imploring look he let out a sigh. "Alright. I won't press you for the reason. But I want to see you again," he added with a slow grin and the confidant male assertiveness that she guessed usually got him what he wanted.

She closed her eyes, trying to summon up the strength to say no.

"It would be better for you if we didn't see each other again," she finally replied in an almost inaudible voice.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," he mocked softly, not taking her seriously. "Would you like to go to a club on Friday? You seem to like dancing." He smile was wickedly explicit. She knew he was referring to the way she had responded in his arms on and off the dance floor.

Her face grew hot. "Yes, I would like that," Bulla admitted, looking back at Goten steadily, knowing that she had just tossed her last shred of sanity out the window. There was something about him that she simply could not turn away from. Was it fear that she would never feel like this ever again in her life? Was that what made her throw all caution, all reserve to the wind?

"I'll pick you up about eight. Would you like to have dinner first?"

She nodded, still unable to tear her gaze away from his. He seemed to be equally absorbed by her. Neither one of them wanted to move away. Finally Bulla called up some common sense.

"I have to go in now."

"See you on Friday." Goten grinned as he straighten and pushed away from the car.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey everyone thanks for the reviews. So if you've noticed the coverart has been changed. It was designed by my friend who goes by the name of RyokoZchan on DeviantART so all credit goes to her for this lovely pic :) And if you're a GxB fan you've got to see the rest of her art I'm telling you it is amazing! And if you haven't read her fanfic Complicated you are missing out! It is by far the best GxB fic I've read in a long time and I'm not just saying cause she my friend either. If you'd like to find her story the easy why, just go to my favorites and it should be the one on top called Complicated, author RedViolinist. So anyways let's get into the next chapter.**

Chapter 5

Bulla counted the days until Friday. She saw Goten at work several occasions. Twice he come into Alex Phoenix's office, and when Mr. Phoenix was busy rooting through his desk for something, Goten's eyes sought hers across the space of the office. Then Mr. Phoenix surfaced and held in his hand some paper he had been looking for. Goten immediately turned back to face him, but not before his gaze slid hungrily over her, setting her blood on fire. Friday seemed aeons away.

Finally though, Goten was at her door.

"You look great," he said, a husky note creeping into his voice. Given the impact of his dark eyes and that husky voice, she knew the words weren't spoken merely out of politeness. A rush of pleasure surged through her.

"I'm ready," she murmured. She made no other comment, but the curve of her soft mouth and the sparkle of appreciation in her big blue eyes confirmed their mutual admiration for each other.

"Let's go." His hand rested lightly but possessively at her waist as they walked out to his car.

The dinner was superb! They stuffed themselves on baked stuffed lobster and finished the meal with Strawberries Cardinal. Afterward they went to a nearby club to burn off some of the excess calories. When they reached it, they were both in high spirits, and a as soon as Bulla had placed her handbag onto the table, Goten pulled her immediately out onto the crowded dance floor. The current rock hit had an extremely infectious rhythm. Couples crowded onto the floor, and Bulla and Goten were soon enjoying themselves and laughing out of sheer joy as the music pulsated all around them and flashing lights transformed the dancers into flickering surreal apparitions.

They danced until they were tired, and then a slow song came on. Goten pulled Bulla into his arms immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the opportunity, and they began to dance slowly to the mesmerizing, haunting melody the insinuated itself into the atmosphere and altered the mood of the entire club.

Her arms slid up around his neck, his hands went around her waist so that they were pressed against each other like two pieces of paper glued together. He buried his face into the curve of her neck and whispered into her ear.

"Kami, you feel so good here in my arms."

She felt his body shudder against hers and his arms tighten around her. His lips brushed the side of her face with aching tenderness. They danced locked in each other's arms, barely aware of the people who surrounded them, until he pulled back and looked down at her. There was hunger in his eyes that he made no attempt to hide.

"I could to with something tall and cool," Bulla said a little shaky, in an attempt to break the spell and lighten the mood. She knew they had to slow things down. Things were happening so fast between them that her head was spinning.

"I'll get something at the bar. What do you want?"

The expression in his eyes said if she asked for the moon he would try to get that her, too.

"I'd just like a soda," she replied, smiling back at him, mesmerized by the look in his eyes. They stood there for a prolonged moment and it seemed to dawn in him that he was supposed to be getting her a drink.

"One soda." He grinned with boyish charm and walked over to the bar.

She sat down at their table, unable to take her eyes away from him. She had never seen this side of him before. It was like her was a new person, so different from the wary, suspicious, cynical person he portrayed himself to be. Her gaze slid over him as he moved into the crush around the bar. She loved watching him. She was beginning to realize that she loved everything about him; every gesture, every mannerism, from the way he moved to the way he quirked his mouth when he pulled out one of his rusty grins. All that made him what he was, in fact.

She sat gazing at him, wrapped up in these amazing thoughts, until she saw a stocky man almost as tall as Goten move alongside him. Her thoughts about Goten were suddenly suspended as something inside her was alerted by the stocky man's presence. The man's arm reached out to slide across Goten's shoulder, but with cautious skillfulness Goten avoided it. Bulla saw the expression on his face harden. His whole demeanor changed from relaxed pleasure to slowly winding aggression. Everything about him was altered; his expression became closed, his eyes into a mystery, his mouth cynical. She saw him unzipped his leather jacket as if he wanted to keep it from restricting his movements, and then he jerked his head in the direction of the alley as if he wanted the man to go out there.

Bulla got up hesitantly and walked towards the two of them. The music was loud, but she could hear the unfriendly vibrations in their voices as soon as she approached.

Goten turned to her. "Bulla get back to the table. I'll be there in a minute." His tone was cold and incisive, that flat voice that allowed no room for discussion.

"What this, Goten? You got yourself a girl?" The other man's gaze slid over her lustfully before turning back to Goten. "Do you still know what to do with one of those?" he taunted, jerking his thumb in her direction. "You didn't forget how while you were inside?" The man laughed hysterically at his own joke, but no one else was laughing.

Bulla could see the dangerous gleam building in Goten's eyes.

"They say it's like riding a bicycle, man, you never forget how." The man laughed hysterically again, continuing to ignore the gathering storm in Goten's expression.

"Sumio, if you know what's good for you, you'll shut your mouth. Before I shut it for you." Goten's voice was low and deadly calm, like the eye of a hurricane.

Bulla didn't move, not because she didn't to do what Goten had asked her to do, but because she found it difficult to move at all. She was frozen. The threat of physical violence always had done that to her, making her easy prey. Her gaze swiveled to the man called Sumio. He wouldn't shut up. His gaze slid over to her again. Looking at her as if she were something to eat.

"With that one you ought to remember real quickly," he gibed again. "She's looks sweet, innocent, and real juicy." He licked his lips, making Bulla shudder.

"I think we should finish this conversation outside," Goten said in the same quiet voice that indicated a distilled boiling anger.

"What's the matter, Goten? Lost your sense of humor or something?" The man backed away with his hands held up against himself in a falsely placating gesture, faking surprise that he had offended in any way. "No harm meant, pal. It's just your lady there is hard to resist looking at. She is quiet a catch." His beefy red face broke into a leering, chip-tooth smile, and Bulla felt revolted.

Suddenly Goten reacted and with one hand seized the front of the man's shirt and forced him through the swinging doors and out into the alley. Bulla had to stifle a cry of alarm to keep from drawing any more attention. A few people had already turned around to stare. She quickly slid though the doorway and followed them out. Shocked into immobility, she saw Goten slam the man up against a brick wall. The enraged man drew up a switchblade from somewhere and thrust it at Goten, which made Bulla let out a scream. The knife grazed his hand, and Bulla in horrified fascination as Goten knocked it away and delivered two short, sharp jabs below the man's diaphragm and then rammed his knee into the man's groin. He then grabbed Sumio by the shoulder before he could fall and started beating the living daylights out of him. It was then, that Bulla came out of her paralyzed state, and fear rose in, fear that Goten just might kill this man.

"Goten stop!" she ran over to him. "Goten please stop, he's had enough! You'll kill him! Please stop it!" she screamed grabbing his arm.

Goten looked at her, the rage still in his eyes. "Please he's had enough," she pleaded. Goten let the man go and Sumio let out a bellow of pain as slid down the brick wall to sit in a crumpled heap.

"Let's get out of here," Goten voice exploded in silent alleyway. He grabbed Bulla by her arm, and they dashed to his car. Faint strains of rock music drifted from the club. All Bulla could think of was that Goten might get into more trouble and that somehow it was because of her.

Goten pulled out into the traffic, and Bulla the hand he caught the knife with was bleeding and had made spots on the cuff of his jacket. She began to sob quietly. The incident had dragged up dark memories she'd thought long dead.

When they reached her apartment, Goten flicked off the engine and turned towards her. That hardened, close expression, the one he adopted when the world dealt him another low blow, was back in his eyes and face.

"I'm sorry, Bulla. I'm sorry that you were subjected to that…"

He had gone back inside himself. The laughing Goten that she'd seen on the dance floor had withdrawn, replaced by this cynical man of steel.

"Your hand is bleeding," she murmured.

"It's nothing."

"Please let me clean and bandage it for you," she said. That was the least she could do for him.

The tiny apartment was warm and inviting when they stepped inside. Bulla put her clutch bag onto the table and went to fetch the first aid box from her bathroom cabinet. When she returned, she saw that Goten had slipped off his jacket and that the blood from his hand was now running down his arm almost reaching his shirt sleeve. She put the box on a stool next to him and start fishing in the first aid box for the right materials as he stood silently observing her. She then examined the cut from the knife.

"I wonder if we should go to the emergency room at hospital."

"No, it's not deep enough to need stitches. Take my word for it."

She felt he knew what he was talking about from past similar experiences, and his words stung her. She picked up the antiseptic and began cleaning his arm and the area around the cut. When the blood was cleared away, she was relieved to see that the cut wasn't as it had looked at first. She quickly cut off some gauze and wrapped it around his hand. The gash ran across the palm. She concentrated, trying to remember what she had learned in first aid. She wound the gauze across the palm of his hand and around his wrist several times. As she maneuvered his hand, she talked in a low soothing voice, trying to get out of him what she wanted to know. He watched her with a bemused speculative tolerance.

"Why didn't you travel to another part of the country when you got out? Do you often bump into people who know you and about what happened to you?" she refrained from using the word _prison._

At first he said nothing. His dark eyes were watching with a kind of studied indifference the way her soft hands wrapped the bandage around his. She stopped and waited for his reply.

"I didn't want to leave. I belong here. My roots are here. I didn't do anything wrong, so why should I go?"

"But isn't this painful for you, when you run into someone like Sumio? How often does it happen?"

"Not very often. I'm not running away," he stated tersely, as if it were something he had asserted time and time again. "I decided that a long time ago. In time, people will eventually forget."

If he had gone somewhere else, started over somewhere else, fate would never have been able throw them together again so easily, Bulla thought ruefully. Even though they had picked a new town to live in—ironically the same town—they had both been too attracted to this part of the country, both been too stubborn to leave.

She bent her head and cut the gauze, tore the end lengthwise, wrapped the ends around his wrist and tied them. She admired her handiwork and stepped back.

"Well I think it's more or less what they taught us in first aid. At least the bleeding's stopped, and the bandage will keep it clean for a while. Is it gonna be a problem when you get back to work?" She raised her eyes and looked at him. He was surveying her intently, thinking thoughts she couldn't read.

"It won't be a problem," he said in that low-pitched voice that seemed to have suddenly developed an edge to it.

She wondered if she had done something wrong. He seemed annoyed. Perhaps she had asked too many questions. His eyes were in that mystery again as he gazed down at her.

"I'd better go," he said.

Something sank inside her. His words had a finality to them. She knew that he was right, that she shouldn't let him stay, and she made no move to stop him as moved towards the door.

Bulla returned to work the next morning, and for several days she didn't see or hear from Goten. Mixed feelings of relief and disappointment swept her continuously as the days rolled by. She kept telling herself that it was for the best, that it didn't matter. That this was what she had wanted. She didn't want his continued interest, she didn't want to be attracted to him, and she didn't to feel the way he made her feel. But all the silent internal discussion did not change the way she did feel about him.

She missed him. She felt regretfully that she had lost something rare, something that would possibly never come again. She went through her work with a dull ache of longing for Goten in her heart.

Often she would stop in the middle of the day, and her mind would flash back to those moments she had spent with him, recalling the way he had looked at her, recalling the feelings he summoned from deep inside her that she didn't even know she was capable of. Goten seemed to plumb the depths and heights of her very being. He drew on her and from her, and she found herself strongly aware of her desire to give him all he wanted and needed, and to take from him what he offered in return. But those bottle-up feelings were in glaring opposition to what her common sense told her she should want.

Then she plunged back into her work, telling herself again how lucky she was to escape because, sooner or later, the invisible time bomb that was ticking between them was bound to be triggered by something or someone and their relationship would explode into a million tiny little pieces. She knew it and was as sure of it as she was of her name.

Around noon, Valese ambled over and dropped to her customary place on the desk. Bulla waited.

"How is Mr. Mystery Man? I hear by way of the grapevine that you have been seen with Goten on one or two occasions."

"Yes. But it's over." Bulla turned to her keyboard, trying to give the impression that she was very busy and hoping that Valese would take the hint and disappear.

But Valese was not easily put off. Once she had picked up the scent, she was a bloody journalist who just found her big scoop. "Why is it over?" she asked casually as she studied her fingernails with exaggerated interest.

Bulla's lips tightened in frustration. Valese wouldn't be satisfied until she heard it all. It was no use. Bulla swung around in her swivel deck chair and faced her friend.

"We didn't hit it off. He's very nice. But we simply didn't click." Bulla blue eyes were wounded and call into question her words.

"Oh really," Valese said. "He was not attracted to you, and you were not attracted to him. I see. And I suppose it was difficult to carry on a conversation with him, since he never uses two words when one will do."

"Very difficult," Bulla admitted truthfully, thinking of how the conversation had continually veered back to his time spent in prison.

"So you didn't do very much talking. And now you are going to convince me that there was no—oh, what's the word I'm looking for? Electricity! There was no electricity, not even a spark between you."

"Absolutely nothing in that department."

"Bulla, at lying, on a scale of one to ten, you are a minus one." Valese slid off the desk and patted Bulla's hand affectionately, then turned to go.

She should have known better than to try to conceal anything from Valese, Bulla thought ruefully. She reflected with a chill that once she had been very good at lying. Too, good, in fact. She faced her computer and began to work with quiet determination.

At the end of the day, Bulla gathered her things together and went out to the parking lot to wait for Valese. After a few minutes, Valese flew out of the office block and signaled to her, waving with abandon.

"Can you take the bus or catch a ride with someone else? I have to go to the hospital. My sister-in-law has finally gone into labor. I think she's gonna have octuplets!"

Bulla waved back, indicating with a nod that it was all right and smiling to herself at the prospect of Valese becoming an auntie. Then she trudged wearily to the bus stop. She stood staring unseeingly at the traffic passing by and thus didn't realize a black Jaguar pulled alongside the curb about fifty feet away.

She didn't care if the bus ever came. Life become dull. Without Goten, it was as if a light had been snuffed out, a vital spark that gave her life shine, and, now everything was dull and empty. All the joy in simple everyday thing seemed to have somehow drained away. The food she ate was tasteless, the clothes she wore seemed to hang on her unappealingly, the programs on T.V. or the books she picked up failed to captured and hold her interest. To top off her misery, it began to rain.

She heard someone call her name, and looked up vaguely. The voice barely penetrated her conscious mind, she was so deeply absorbed in her own thoughts. Again, heard her name, and she looked up, frowning at the intrusion. Then she saw him striding towards her, and something spiraled crazily out of control inside her and her heart leaped with joy. Her face betrayed her emotions immediately and lit up with intense pleasure though she struggled in vain to hide it.

When Goten saw it, a smoky look invaded his own eyes. "I thought you might need a lift," he said in that low-pitched voice that had been echoing in her mind for the past three weeks. Without hesitation, she walked towards him, he opened the car door and she slid inside as if they had some unspoken agreement. He climbed into his seat, and started the engine.

"Why were you taking the bus?" Goten asked.

"My car's still in the garage. It's pretty old, and they're having trouble finding a part," she explained. She studied his profile, wondering why he had stopped to offer her a ride. The question must have been plain to see because he answered it.

"I wanted to talk to you." He edged the car into the stream of rush-hour traffic. They drove along, and she waited for him to say what it was he wanted talk to her about. She didn't want to ask. She knew she should get out of the car and never see him in any way, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. She couldn't fill up the empty ache inside her, the longing to be with him again. And she couldn't stop the mad beating of her heart at the sight of him or the sheer happiness of being so close to him.

The car lurched to a stop in front of her apartment, and Goten switched off the engine and stared out the windshield silently for a long moment, still not saying anything. Bulla began to think he had changed his mind. Her heart plummeted, and she reached out slowly for the door handle, unable to stand the exquisite torture of being so near without touching him and knowing it would all end in a matter of moments, anyway. He reached out instantly, and his hand covered hers.

"Don't go," he murmured huskily. Then he leaned over, and his hand slid underneath her hair and around the back of her neck. She watched him breathlessly as he lowered his head, brushed his lips over the side of her face and whispered into her ear. "Bulla I want to see you again. In spite of what happened the last time we were out. Will you go out with me again? I thought it was best if I didn't see you again. I thought you wouldn't even want to see me and would thank me if I did you the favor of staying away. But I can't."

Delirious happiness surged inside her when he told her why he had been holding off from seeing her again. It was because of what happened at the dance club! She thought it had been because of something she'd done or because he simply wasn't interested in her anymore, wasn't attracted to her strongly enough to ask her out again. All the while, he had been convinced that she wouldn't want to go out with him again. If only he knew that he real reason she shouldn't see him again was her doing and not his. The knowledge struck some sensitive chord deep within her. As if he had in any way been to blame for the incident at the club. As if he had been to blame for anything at all. He was innocent and always had been. Relief and happiness shot through her in equally strong currents. Without thinking, her heart overruled her head.

"I want to see you again," she murmured softly, turning her head and looking steadily back at him. She saw a strange vulnerability flicker in his eyes, and then his hand tightened in her hair and he lowered his head so that his mouth found hers. He kissed with such tenderness and for a very long time, before he broke off the kiss and murmured against the soft skin of her neck close to her ear. The touch of his mouth sent a current through her that was devastating and made her press into him, her entire body a soft invitation.

"When?" he demanded, his hands digging into her long silky blue locks and drawing her up against him.

"When would you like?" she asked with a breathless catch in her voice. He moved back, and she watched him from underneath thick lashes, drunk with his nearness and the dizzying sensation of his mouth inches away. She was unconsciously provocative.

With swift retaliation his hand sank deeper into her think wavy hair, and he teased her, tugging her head back gently so that her mouth was angled even more invitingly near his. His sexy black eyes melt her blue ones.

"As soon as I can, you little devil." Then he brushed her lips, so softly, with infinite tenderness and trailed his hand down the curve of her neck. When he pulled away he surveyed the delicateness of her beautiful face thoughtfully.

"How would you like to come flying with me?"

Bulla stared at Goten blankly for a long moment. "You haven't really got access to a plane, have you?" she challenged him with a disbelievingly look.

A slow smile curved the corner of his mouth. He grinned at her triumphantly.

"I rent a Cessna two-engine. It's great for getting away on the weekends."

"I'd love to go flying with you." She smiled, delighted by the invitation, knowing that he was excellent pilot. She had heard Mr. Phoenix sing his praises too many times not to believe it. So she agreed immediately when he suggested flying up to Tokyo, to see the sights such as the Tokyo National Museum, the Meiji Shrine, the Imperial Palace, Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, and Tokyo Tower. Bulla had never been to Tokyo before, and thought of going with Goten made a surge of excitement run through her whole being.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

On Saturday morning Bulla's alarm didn't go off and she overslept. It was the pounding on the apartment door that awakened her. She hastily slipped on her bathrobe, tied the belt and shuffled into the hall, still half asleep. Opening the door a crack, she saw Goten peering at her.

"I'm sorry. Damn it all, the alarm didn't go off! I can shower and dress in thirty minutes. Promise," she said quickly. "Help yourself to coffee in the kitchen." she shouted through the gap as she closed the bathroom door.

Goten's black-eyed gaze followed her. He slid his hands into his pockets and wondered what it was about Bulla that intrigued him so much. He started to pull out a cigarette and then reminded himself that he had given them up. He leaned against the doorjamb, slipped his hands into his pockets again and thought about Bulla. Something about her nagged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. All he knew was he wanted her and he wanted to be with her. He wanted to experience those soft curves in his arms again, to breathe the sweet scent of her when she was aroused and the feel the way she responded to him. It drove him crazy. And there was something else about her mixed in with all that femininity and vulnerability that drew him. She was intriguing. There was an elusive quality as if something was always held in reserve. For the hundredth time he wondered what it was. _What difference does it make_, he thought, and finally reached into his pocket and lit a cigarette. He was hooked on her, and he'd better take it a little slower and easier if he didn't want to ruin his chances with her. He was going to scare her if he came on too strong, if he unleashed the desire that was building inside him.

Prison had changed him dramatically. He was well aware of that. It had hardened him, made him more primitive. Prison was no place for sensitivities. It was like basic training in survival. All the immoral instincts came out. Eat or be eaten. An eye for an eye. You learned to look after number one, and you developed a sixth sense about what was behind you. Your reactions were honed until you had hair-trigger reflexes. They had to be if you wanted to survive. It also made you take what wanted when you wanted it. Restraint was a refinement of civilization. He reflected on how he had made a grab for Bulla that first night when he kissed her, how much the niceties of civilization had been diminished in him. Seven years ago, on a first date, he would never have come on to a girl like Bulla as he had. But after the experience of being in prison, he had only blinding need. There was something in Bulla that Goten needed and wanted so badly, something soft and feminine and wholesome that made up for all the ugliness of what he had been through. When he felt the way she responded, he'd had to fight back his instinctive desire to have her, then and there. He didn't want that to happen again. He didn't want to lose her.

They drove to the municipal airfield and walked across the tarmac toward the area that was designated for private aircrafts. Bulla stood back as Goten paused beside a green-and white twin engine Cessna and opened the cargo door. She passed him the tote bag she had brought along with her, and he stowed it away.

With a mischievous grin twitching at the corners of his mouth, he suddenly reached out, caught her around the waist and swung her easily up into the plane. Impressed with his strength, she had an alarming thought. Would he ever turn that awesome, unpredictable strength on her as he had on the man called Sumio? But as she slid into the copilot's seat, she realized she couldn't imagine him lashing out at her. She had seen him become aggressive only once, and that was when someone had attacked him. She had no intention of ever attacking him.

Goten swung easily into the pilot's seat alongside her, then closed the door of the plane firmly and latched it. He reached for a headset, and Bulla sat quietly watching as he checked the instrument panel and went silently through a routine check.

"Have you ever been up in one of these things?" Goten asked, letting his gaze slide over her appreciatively.

"No," Bulla murmured.

"Nervous?"

"Not with you." Goten's eyes brightened briefly. She could see that her answer pleased him, but it had not been her intention to flatter him. She had simply stated the truth. She felt safe with him. That was unless he ever found out who she really was. The thought was like a dark cloud covering the sun, and she tried to conceal its shadow from flickering across her face. It was always there, she mused, no matter how happy she felt with Goten. The past was there, insidiously threating in the background.

"Good," she heard him reply in an offhanded manner. Completely relaxed and unruffled, he asked the tower for instructions and then taxied the small plane to a nearby clear strip. "Let's get airborne," he said, and the plane immediately began to travel down the runway, quickly picking up speed.

Having already fastened her seat belt, Bulla leaned back in her seat and watched the runway move by at an ever-increasing speed, accompanied by the roar and rumble of the plane as it surged and gradually lifted off the ground. She turned her head sideways to look out the window and saw the ground rapidly falling away, accompanied by the strong drone of the engine as the small plane soared into the fathomless blue canopy of sky.

With the ground disappearing below, her attention was inexorably drawn back to Goten. Conversation was difficult over the noise of the airplane's engine, so she was content to sit and observe what was going on. She quickly confirmed what Mr. Phoenix had said about Goten. Even to untrained eyes he had the look of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. He had the confidence of a pilot who had flown many hours and had experienced almost every kind of unusual situation in the air. She felt again the recurring sense of safety with him.

The thought was ludicrous, she mused, because if he ever discovered who she really was, she could only guess what his reaction would be. Would he be vindictive, she wondered, recalling once again the violence that was unleashed from somewhere deep inside him in the alley behind the club. She had watched paralyzed, as he had used swift, raw punishment he had lashed out to the man who had pushed him over the edge. What would happen if she pushed him over the edge? Bulla tried to put the thought out of her mind. What good would it do to worry about something over which she had no control? She was beyond the point of stopping herself from seeing him. She knew that now. She could no more stay away from him than she could stop breathing. A sense of acceptance settled over her. What would be, would be, she thought, and she felt helpless to avoid it anyway.

Goten said very little, and they were soon circling over Tokyo. The plane banked sharply to the right to line up with a runway. She was amazed at how little time it had taken to reach the busy city of many bright lights. By car it would have taken several hours of solid driving. By plane they had made the trip in under an hour.

Goten glanced over to check that she was buckled in, and the plane began its descent, touching down smoothly and rolling down the runway, eventually losing speed and taxiing to a stop. After he had made all the mechanical adjustments and routine checks, Goten leaped out of the plane, walked around to the other side and again lifted Bulla down effortlessly to the ground. His hands slid slowly down her midriff to her waist, holding her longer than necessary, as if he were reluctant to let go. Bulla was aware of him looking intently into her eyes. His lingering gaze and lingering touch fired her blood.

They had made their way to the Tokyo National Museum, meandering the vast complex, viewing the various exhibits, walking, talking, relaxing, just basking in pleasure of each other's company. Goten's arm rested at her waist lightly as they explored the fascinating complex. At lunchtime, Goten bought them yakisobi noodles and steam buns and they went to the Shinjuku Gyoen Garden and sat on one of the benches. Over the noodles, Goten probed about Bulla's childhood.

"You said you grew up in Ginger Town, right?" Goten asked, before taking a bit of his noodles.

"That's right," Bulla replied, suddenly on edge. Any reference to her past immediately had that effect; it was born out of fear that she might make a slip. His penetrating gaze seemed to swallow her up.

"Where did you live?"

"With my aunt. I think I told you that." She named the street.

"I had a friend who grew up in Ginger Town. Maybe you knew him. He went to the local high school."

"He would have been years ahead of me," Bulla murmured quickly to cover up another sudden surge of anxiety.

"True," he replied, then started chuckling lightly. "I keep forgetting your twenty-three, you seem to act much older," he said, giving one of his rusty smiles.

She was disconcerted by the causal questions, and then brushed it off. It was just one of those chance remakes, she decided, and thought nothing more of it. But the questions brought home to her the reality that situations similar to this would inevitably come up from time to time and fill her with unease.

"Are you happy working at Lilac's?" she asked to change the subject. His features grew rigid. She had the craziest desire to reach out and touch his face, to brush her lips over his, to smooth over all the rough times he'd had. His eyes skimmed her face as if he were reading her thoughts, and the burning look in them played havoc with her pulse rate.

"It's the best job I've had since I got out. At least I'm doing something I'm trained for and something I enjoy doing. I'd like to buy my way into a place like Lilac's one day, own a hefty share, get in on the management side of it, but still do some flying." He spoke almost as if he weren't aware of what he was saying as his eyes devoured the soft curves of her face in distracted fascination. "My future as pilot with one of the major airlines was finished after what happened." His gaze moved down to the tender sensuality of her lips. "But I could possibly own a share of a commercial venture like Lilac's. I've got quite a bit of money that my family gave me, and one of these days I intend to speak to Phoenix about it. But not until I've been there for a while longer. It's too soon." His gaze settled again on the curve of her mouth, and for one crazy moment Bulla thought he was going to kiss her. But he went on telling her about his ideas, and she stared at him mesmerized by his unspoken touch, glad that he was putting the shattered pieces of life back together and relieved to find that at least some of the residue of guilt inside her drained away as he discussed his future dreams and plans.

They went to see the rest of the sights, from the Imperial Palace and ending the evening with the Tokyo Tower. They flew back after a peace day and arrived in Lilac as the light began to fade in the spring sky and the clouds were shot with crimson, purple, and gold and the leaves on the tall trees glinted like silver in the dying day. Goten swung easily out if his side of the plane and helped her down, capturing her against his hard built body, letting her slide with agonizing slowness against his long limbs, so that she was aware of every muscle of his tall frame. He bent his head, and touched his mouth against her forehead as he held her tightly to him, reluctant to let her go.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes," she murmured, lifting her gaze to meet his. She had spent one of the best days of her life in his company, and she was now thoroughly smitten with him.

He lowered his head, brushed her lips with a teasing sensuality and then released her.

"I enjoyed it, too. I want you, but I also like being with you," he said quietly.

Deep pleasure, mixed with desire, surged through her. His arm encircled her waist tightly, and they walked to where his car was parked. They drove to her apartment block in companionable silence. When she looked at her wristwatch, she saw that it was almost eight o' clock. It was well past dinnertime, and she suddenly realized that she was hungry and that he must be, too. She turned towards him hesitantly.

"Would you like to come in for something to eat? I'm going to fix something for myself."

"Yes," he replied, a smile curving his mouth.

Bulla accepted that all common sense had vanished. She knew only that she wanted him with her and that nothing else seemed to matter now. Not even the fear that he might somehow discover who she was made any difference. It paled beside the overpowering desire to be with him.

Once inside the small apartment, Bulla dropped her bag into the sofa and left Goten lounging in the kitchen doorway as she went to survey the refrigerator.

"What would you like?" she called over her shoulder. "Chili and a tossed green salad or grilled streak, bake potato and vegetables. That's all I've got. Speak up, don't be shy."

"Steak and whatever goes with it, and I'm definitely not shy," he shot back. "I thought you had already discovered that."

Bulla turned away from the freezer, thinking it was safer not to reply. She placed the streaks in the microwave to defrost them quickly, then started the potatoes. While the steaks were grilling, she made the salad. Goten stood drinking in the unconscious grace with which she moved around the kitchen.

"Would you like something to drink? I think I got some soda, and some juice. No beer, sorry, I don't drink," she said, checking the refrigerator again. After seeing what alcohol had done to her stepfather, she would never let a drop of it in her home.

"Soda's fine," Goten replied, not taking his gaze from her.

"We could always rent a DVD," she said. "There's a rental store on the main road, or we could watch one I already have. Would you like to watch a movie after we eat?" she asked, unaware of the temptation of her soft, feminine sensuality.

"Are you trying to get me to stay?" Goten teased.

"It was just a thought," Bulla murmured. She hadn't wanted this wonderful day to end, but her face flushed at his remark. Now he probably thought she was being forward.

"Well, you don't have to do anything to get me to stay," he replied with a teasing grin. "I want to stay, and I was going to figure out a way to get you to ask me to stay if you didn't."

Bulla tried to suppress a pleased smile as she reached into the refrigerator. Before she could turn around to place the two leader on the counter, she felt him move up behind her and his hands slip around her waist. She drew in her breath sharply as he pressed her back slowly and intimately into his built, rangy strength so that her soft curves were locked into his hard angles, into the cradle of his hips and against the long lines of his legs. His breath fanned her ear.

"I've been wanting this to do this all day," he whispered hoarsely, sliding his mouth down the soft curve of her neck.

Desire suddenly surged between them, and Goten turned her in his arms, pulling her yielding body to him. He removed the soda bottle from her hands, setting it down on the counter, then, locking her arms around his neck, he gave her a long, drugging kiss. Over the silent minutes, Goten dropped a succession of rhythmic kisses on her face, her mouth, her neck, until Bulla felt herself falling into the familiar deep, dark abyss of pleasure. Her hands grabbed hold of his shirt across his shoulder blades to counterbalance the sensation and then slid across the toned muscled planes of back as he parted her lips and deepened the kiss. His hard, powerful body seemed to absorb her soft curves. The sensation was intoxicating.

Suddenly, the buzzer on the microwave made her pull back abruptly, breaking off the drowning kiss. Goten pressed his face into the soft curve of her neck. A ragged edge had developed in his breathing.

"The steaks," Bulla murmured. She smelled something burning. She turned away from the look of raw desire in Goten's ebony eyes and the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He seemed to enjoy the disturbing effect he had on her.

She took the potatoes out of the microwave, put the steaks on plates, and then served the salad in separate dishes. Goten opened the bottle of soda and poured some into glass cups. All the while, Bulla tried to regain her composure and get the situation back on tract and away from the strong physical pull growing between them.

Goten sensed her confusion, and when they sat down at the counter he steered the conversation to the sights they had seen at Tokyo and how easy it was to hop around the country in a private plane on the weekends, suggesting that there were lots of other places they could visit. They sat talking about the various possibilities over coffee. When they cleared away in the kitchen, they went into the living room and sank into the overstuffed sofa. Goten placed a disk into the DVD player and Bulla took off her sandals and stretched out to watch the movie. After what had happened in the kitchen, she wanted to keep things relaxed between them, to keep the mad rush of desire at bay.

But it was not to be. Goten affected her like a rich wine, and her gaze slid over powerful frame as sat sprawled on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his light tanned arms linked behind his head.

"Can you scooch a little?" Bulla murmured, maneuvering her legs behind him. She felt pleasantly tired after the long day.

He let her slide her feet behind him, and she leaned back and twisted onto her side to watch the film in the dimly lit room. Bulla had seen the movie before but it was a riveting one, and she lay absorbed, watching the movie until she felt Goten's hand drift along her leg and up her thigh. It was an unmistakable move, and she glanced swiftly at his face. His profile gave nothing away. But when he turned his head, the message of undiluted desire in his eyes was clear and unmistakable. She hesitated, not daring to breathe, as if balanced on some knife edge of self-control. He, too, seemed to be waging an inner battle with himself. Then slowly his hand slid farther to the curve of her hip and over the silky material of her bikini briefs. She closed her eyes, and her whole body shuddered at the sensations his touch aroused. She sensed him twisting around. Then he leaned forward and pressed hid hard body against her softly curving one.

"Bulla." His voice was husky and low-pitched. He lowered his head and found her mouth.

His lips were so warm, she thought dreamily. There was such an utter gentleness in his toned, tough body bearing down on hers.

He deserted her lips for the soft curve of her neck. His mouth burned on the sensitive column as he whispered incoherent things. His potent yet indistinguishable words spread like a wildfire inside her body. She moaned softly, and her hands slid to his shoulders, restlessly caressing him.

It was all the answer he needed. Something was unleased inside them both, and he pulled her blouse out of her skirt and ran his hands underneath over the warm smoothness of her skin. As his mouth covered hers again, he unhooked her bra, pushed it out of the way and cupped her full, rounded breasts. He kissed her with a hungry rhythm that infected her instantly with his aroused passion. In no time at all they were locked in a restless writhing, maneuvering to get closer to each other as desire, shimmering like an intense force between them, flooded their senses.

His hands became increasingly insistent, taking more liberties, exploring the soft roundness of her hips. The slowly burning desire that had ignited between them had changed and took on a fervor and undeniable urgency.

Abruptly, Goten stopped kissing her, pulling her arms from around his neck and withdrawing. He stood up and turned away from her. She watched from the sofa, dazed as he drew in several long, deep steadying breaths in his fight for control. Then he turned around and silently surveyed her.

"I'd better go, while I still can," Goten announced with a low-pitched grim determination to his words.

She nodded, still stunned by what had happened between them. "Yes," she said softly, her cheeks flaming as she stood up and awkwardly smoothed her skirt, which had worked its way up around her hips.

He watched her with a dizzying hunger in his eyes, and when she moved towards the door, he held up his hand. "I'd better see myself out."

She was grateful that he had the instincts of a gentleman and the strength of will to stop. She wasn't sure what had happened to her own sense of propriety. It seemed to have completely evaporated along with her common sense, she thought with dismay. Her gaze followed him out the door, and she sank back against the wall, suddenly frightened. She was falling hopelessly in love with him, and she was tired of living a lie.

* * *

><p>The months flew by as Goten and Bulla spent as much times as they could with each other, going out to dinner, going to the movies, taking flights on the weekends. All the while Bulla wrestled with her conscious. Her thoughts trod wearily over the ground she had already traveled many times before. She tried to rationalize her behavior all over again, reminding herself that she had been duress at the time of the trial, reminding herself of her youth ad also of the fact that she had not been driving the car. She argued silently that she could not bring back those years Goten had lost out of his life. That he had to put the past behind him. And she told herself that she loved him, and convinced herself that loving him might in some small way make up for his loneliness and help him forget his past experience. She paced the rooms of her tiny apartment, going over and over every eventuality, constantly reminding herself that if he ever discovered the truth, it could wreck everything, it could destroy his feelings for her, it could tear asunder anything that they might build together.<p>

But when was all considered, she came back to only one thing. She had fallen deeply in love with him. Love was a ruling passion that overshadowed all else. But was she willing to gamble everything on it?

One Friday Bulla met him in the parking lot as she was going towards Valese's car for her now millionth lift home. He called out as he walked towards her. Then he just stood there in his silent, measuring way, towering over her, before finagling saying, "Can I take you home?"

Out of the corner of her eye. Bulla saw Valese coming. Should she say no? She asked herself. She kept debating this in her mind, but the word that eventually came out was _yes._

Just then Valese called out. "Are you going home with him?" she teased.

Bulla waved and nodded to her friend. Then she joined Goten.

"Your car still in the shop?" he asked.

"Yeah, there's more wrong with it than I realized. And they still haven't tract down all the parts. It's gonna take a while."

"Too bad."

"Yeah, well, I don't mind taking the bus, and Valese has been great about lifts."

During the drive, there was silence between them. Bulla felt the unanswered question that was hanging in the air. They had been seeing each other for almost five mouths now. If they were going to keep seeing each other, where would it lead?

When the car stopped at a traffic light, Goten turned to her. His black eyes were mystified by some unnamed emotion.

"I was thinking of visiting my family this weekend. And I was wondering if you'd like come and meet them?"

Bulla eyes widened by the surprise of what he said. Meet his family! Things were definitely getting serious if he wanted her meet his family. Bulla regained herself and replied, "Are you sure. I mean, I wouldn't be Imposing on them or anything?" Bulla was starting feel scared. What if his brother and sister-in-law recognized her? They had been there at the trial, she remembered a woman screaming curses at her and Trunks, saying that they liars and kinds of other stuff. She wouldn't know what to do if they did wind up recognizing her. She was snapped out of her thought by Goten's low-pitched voice.

"You wouldn't be imposing at all Bulla, I already told them about you and they can't wait to meet you, especially my nieces." Slowly a grin contorted the corner of his mouth, as he waited for her answer.

As much as fear of the possibility of being discovered flooded her, she couldn't resist the idea of meeting Goten's family. From what he told her about them, they sounded so caring, and loving and she wanted see what it would be like to be around people like. She gave him a soft smile and nodded.

"Yes, I'd love to meet your family, Goten," she replied a little nervously. But the prospect of being with him for another entire day sent excitement and delight coursing through her veins. They looked at each other for a long moment.

"Good I was hoping you'd say that." He turned his attention back to the traffic and drove on with ease and assurance he seemed to apply to everything.

**Ooo Bulla's gonna meet Gohan, Videl, Pan, and one of my OCs!**


	7. Chapter 7 Part 1

**Hey so the chapter got too long so I made it into two parts **

Chapter 7: Part 1

_How did I ever agree to this? _Was the thought that was running through Bulla's mind as she and Goten drove them from Lilac, and headed for a mountain village called Pazou, where his family lived. Little conversation was spoken, so Bulla just looked out the window and contemplated about meeting his family. Would they like her, hate her, recognize her, ask questions that might stumble her? The possibilities seemed endless.

Her thoughts were brought back to the trial. She was sitting two chairs away from her stepfather, waiting terrified for the jury to say their verdict. Hoping that her lying wasn't for nothing and that her brother would not be convicted. She wouldn't know she would do if Trunks wound up going to prison.

"We the jury, find the defendant, Son Goten. Guilty of man slaughter." The court erupted in murmurs and Bulla noticed a woman who was outraged and she stood up and started yelling.

"They're lying! Can't you see that?! You're sending an innocent man to prison for something he didn't do!" the woman screamed and the judge banged his gavel trying to regain order in his court. There was a man with the woman and he wrapped his arms around her and whispered something in her ear, trying to comfort her as she started crying.

Bulla glanced over at the couple. The woman still crying and she hid her face in her husband's shoulder. The man looked over at Bulla and her heart seemed to stop. She could see he a few tears streaming down his cheeks but what got her was the look in his eyes they seemed to be asking "Why?" She quickly turned away not wanting to feel anything. She couldn't think about anybody else. She had to do what she had to do so her brother wouldn't go to prison.

It had taken over an hour to get to Mount Pazou and another thirty to get to the Son residence. It was quiet a humble looking dome house, away from the rest of the village. Goten got out of the car and walked around to Bulla's side and opened the door for her. She straighten out her outfit and wished she could straighten out her gangling nerves.

"There nothing to be nervous about Bulla," Goten said, noticing her anxiety. She looked if she were going to sweat bullets. "There's going to bite," he said with a soft laugh.

Bulla was starting feel better and kept telling herself just to stay calm and that there was no way could recognize her anyway, since she had been sixteen at the time. She was going to stay calm, make a good impression with his family and enjoy herself.

Goten rang the doorbell a couple of times before they heard someone coming to the door.

"Goten, it so good to see you!" Bulla step back a bit as she watched the two brothers hug. They looked a lot alike, she thought. Just his brother was older and wore glasses.

"It's good to see you too Gohan," Goten said after they broke their hug. "I'd like you to meet Bulla Lacestings. Bulla this is my brother, Gohan."

Bulla smiled and held out her hand to Gohan. "It's very nice to meet you Mr. Son. Goten's told so much about you and your family." Bulla was on edge, Gohan looked at her as if he were studying her, like he had seen her somewhere before. Oh god! Does he know? Was she finally found out? Gohan smiled back and shook her hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Bulla, and please, call me Gohan. I get enough of that _Mr. Son_ stuff from my students," he chuckled. "Come inside you two and make yourselves at home. The coat rack's right over there." Gohan pointed to the wall on his right. "Videl's in kitchen, take a seat on the sofa and I'll go get her."

Gohan went down the hall, leaving Goten and Bulla in the living room. They sat on the sofa and started to relax. Bulla look around at all the pictures on the walls, the trophies and books on the shelves, the bin of toys and board games on one side and a medium sized T.V. on the other. It was cozy a looking environment. She guessed the room to as big as her front room and kitchen combined.

"Uncle Goten! Uncle Goten!" The shriek brought Bulla out of thoughts and she turned her head towards where screaming was coming from. There was a flash of black and next thing Bulla saw, was a little girl sitting on Goten's lap. She was very cute, with wild black hair and shining gray-blue eyes. Her mouth was forming into a pout and she put her little hands on her hips.

"How come you don't come to visit more, don't you like to see us, don't you like to see me?" the girl asked as her lips started quivering and she was blinking rapidly to hold back tears.

"Of course I do sweetheart. My work just keeps me very busy, somebody's got to fly those planes and deliver the cargo." He gave her a smile and tickled her sides and bursts of laughter rang through the living room and tears were forgotten.

"Do you ride a big plane?" she asked, after the tickle session.

"It's not too big, just a medium size plane. Maybe I'll take you and Pan flying sometime and you can see how I do things in action."

"Really?" she asked, her eyes shined with enthusiasm.

"Sure. I'll just have to ask your parents first though."

Bulla admired the way Goten interacted with his niece. He had such a kind, loving side to him, a side she only ever saw on occasions. And she never really noticed until now, but he would make a wonderful father someday.

Bulla was startled out of her thoughts when she felt a tug on her sleeve and saw the girl looking at her. "Yes?" Bulla asked.

"Are you Uncle Goten's girlfriend? He's never brought a lady to our house before so I was just wondering if you're his girlfriend." Bulla could feel her face flushing at the girl's question. Was she his girlfriend? They did do a lot of stuff together, and they did get into a lot of passionate moments too. They liked each other a lot, she knew that for sure. But they never once said they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Uh…well I…uh…" Bulla stumbled not really sure how answer the question but Goten came in.

"I like to think so," he said, giving her one of his rusty smiles, making her blush even more.

"I'm Kmil, what's your name?"

"I'm Bulla." She said smiling. "You have such a pretty name, Kmil."

The girl little cheeks turned rosy and she held her hands together and turned from side to side as looked down kind of bashful. "Thank you, I like you hair. It's so pretty and shining and blue! I like blue."

Bulla laughed softly at that. "Oh thank you. You have very pretty hair yourself too."

"Yeah, but I wish I can grow it as long as yours. Mommy and daddy won't let it grow that long though."

"Why not?" Bulla asked.

"Cause it's…" Kmil tapped a finger to her chin and made a face as if she were thinking hard for the right word to say. "It's so un-tame-able," she smiled, pleased she found the word, "so I have to keep it short. But my sister can grow hers as long as she wants cause she got my mommy's hair and I got my daddy's." The girl finished with a pout and both Bulla and Goten laughed lightly at that.

Gohan came back with a tray of drinks in his hands and there was a woman behind him, Videl no guess, Bulla thought.

"Well I see you've met Kmil," Gohan said as he put the drinks on the coffee table. "Hope she hasn't chatting your ears off," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh no, she been quiet charming. I find her adorable," Bulla said and took the drink Gohan offered.

"You see daddy? I'm adorable." Kmil smile triumphantly. Bulla couldn't stop smiling, that girl was just so cute. She had quiet the personality too.

"Hi Bulla, I'm Videl," Videl said, extending her hand out. "I can see why Goten likes you. You're a very beautiful girl."

Bulla glanced over at Goten a saw the uncomfortable look on his face at sister-in-law's comment. She felt her own face flushing. His family really didn't care too much if they embarrassed him, she thought. But it was all in good nature.

"Thank you," Bulla said and shook Videl's hand. "And it's nice to meet you too…uh…would you like me to call you Mrs. Son or Videl?" Bulla asked. She had always been used to addressing people who were a bit older than herself by their last names but she didn't want to offend them in anyway.

"You can call me Videl," she said and took a seat on the other couch, sitting beside Gohan. "Well, dinner won't be ready for another hour or two and I have no idea where Pan ran off too so you'll meet her later. But tell us Bulla, how did Goten and you meet?"

"Oh, well, you could say we literally bumped into each other. I was gathering some papers in our boss's office and was distracted so didn't see Goten when turned around to head back to my desk and just smacked right into him," Bulla giggled. That moment had been pretty frightening when it happened but looking back now, she found it quiet amusing. "Well, after that, we saw each other on occasion around the office. Till I went to the Hercule day festival with a friend of mine and that's where Goten asked me to go out with him."

"Challenged is more like it," Goten put in.

"You challenged her to go out with you, why?" Videl asked, an eye brow cocked.

"It's complicated sis, and shouldn't be talked about in front of…" Goten pointed his finger like an arrow above Kmil's head.

"Well anyway," Bulla interjected. "We went out and had a good time."

"The second time was a disaster though," Goten said.

"It wasn't a complete disaster," Bulla told him. "I enjoyed myself. It was just when that friend of yours came in and ruined everything."

"A friend?" Gohan was next to ask and Goten told him about encounter with Sumio, censoring a few things here and there as not to say anything violent in front of Kmil. And after the whole thing was over, he thought it would be best to stay away from Bulla, thinking after that she wouldn't want to out with him anymore but he couldn't stay away.

"Well, I guess you can say we just couldn't stay away from each other," Goten finished as a grin contorting the corners of his mouths.

Just as he finished, the front door open and slam. "Mama, Dad, I'm home!" Pan called out.

"We're in the living room sweetheart!" Videl called after. "Your uncle's here with his friend, Bulla!"

There was some thudding noises before Pan came into the room, "Dang it, I'm sorry. I forgot that it was today you were coming." Pan apologized to her uncle and ran over to the sofa, jumped on the spare cushion, and wrapped her arms around Goten's neck, giving him a hug. "It's so good to see you. You know I missed you Uncle Goten. Why don't come and visit more?" she asked before giving him a smack on the arm.

"Well, first Kmil, now you. My job keeps me very busy, I am a piolet you know."

"Oh yeah right, work. I know what's _really_ has been keeping _you_ busy." Pan leaned her head and looked over at Bulla, giving her a wink, which made Bulla blush, embarrassed. "So you're Bulla? I'm Pan, nice to meet you." Pan gave her grin.

"Nice to meet you," Bulla said softly, feeling the blush fading.

Everyone started getting comfortable again and chatter erupted in the room, the women talking among themselves and men doing the same. Conversations went from family, home life, careers, school, and so on. The hour passed by quickly it was time for dinner. Everyone made their way to dining room.

While Gohan and Videl went to go get the food from the kitchen, the girls, Bulla and Goten took their seats. "So Bulla, tell me, do you and my uncle kiss a lot?" Pan asked as she propped her elbow on the table and waited for the woman's answer.

Bulla was utterly embarrassed and didn't want to answer the question at all. She couldn't really blame the girl's curiosity, she was a teenager after all.

"That's none of your business, Pan," Goten told her.

"Ooo, ooo, ooo! That means yes!" Pan had a triumphant grin on her face and Goten just rolled his eyes.

The food was brought in and everybody started digging in and chatting again. Through the dinner Bulla learned that Gohan was a professor at a university in Satan City and that Videl was a famous author of children's and teen books, going by a pen name. Bulla told them a bit about herself too when they asked, being sure to tell them the same story she had told Goten, both her parents dying when she was young and growing up in Ginger Town with her aunt. Bulla watched The Sons laugh and joke about everyday things, Pan asking her parents if she could go out with one of the boys from the village who went to school with her. Kmil talking about how she could wait to go to school again and see all her friends. Bulla started wondering what it would be like to be a part of family like this. To be surrounded by people who cared for one another.

_But you couldn't keep secrets from a family like this for very long, _her mind told her. _In the long run they'll find out who you really are and then where will you be? You can't keep lying, you'll slip up one of these days. _Her mind kept attacking her with these thoughts. She knew they were all true, she couldn't keep lying. The inevitable would happen sooner or later and Goten know the truth. But what then? Her mind seemed to bring up all kinds of things.

Bulla felt a tug on her sleeve and looked over at Kmil who was sitting at her left. "Yes?" she asked.

"Are you and Uncle Goten gonna get married?" everyone stopped eating and looked over at Bulla and Kmil. The girl was eager for an answer while Bulla just sat there, not sure how to answer such a question. The blush was coming back, rising from the neck up.

"Well, I don't know," she finally answered in a murmur.

"Why?"

"You shouldn't ask personal questions like that Kmil," Pan jumped in saving Bulla.

"But why?" Kmil asked.

"Because it's rude."

"But way?" Gohan and Videl interjected and told her the reasons.

When dinner was finished and the dishes were all put into the kitchen to be washed, Pan and Kmil said their good nights to the adults and went upstairs. Gohan and Goten went to the back deck and started chatting about Goten's pilot job while Videl and Bulla were in the living room.

"I'm sorry about Kmil. I hope she didn't embarrass you," said Videl.

"It's okay," Bulla murmured. "She was just curious I guess."

"Hey, would you like to see some photographs?" Videl asked, seeming to find a way to smooth over the embarrassment.

Bulla smiled and nodded.

"Okay I think I have an album around here somewhere." Videl went to the shelves found what she was looking for. "I think this was is mixed with a kinds of years." Videl set the photo album one her lap as she sat by Bulla. They went through baby pictures of Pan and Kmil some photos of Gohan and Videl when they were teenagers.

"We were high school sweethearts you know," Videl told her.

"Really? That sounds so adorable."

"Oh yeah, I met Gohan when we were sixteen. I don't know, there was just something about him that attracted me to him. But he was so shy that I was the one doing all the chasing." Videl's laughter rang in the living room.

"I know that feeling," Bulla said, thinking about her first encounters with Goten and how never seemed stop chasing after her.

"You too, huh?"

"Yes, just in the reverse."

They went further into the album and looked at wedding photos till they stopped at a picture of a young boy with spiky black hair, dark eyes, and a huge smile on his face.

"Who's that?" Bulla asked.

"That's Goten," Videl replied and laughed softly when Bulla looked at her dumbfounded.

"You're kidding, that's Goten? Oh my gosh, he looks so different!"

"Yeah," Videl sighed and closed the album. "Those were the happier days. I was seven then, so care free and not a worry in the world. You know though, I've been seeing some of that boy come back and I think you have a lot to do with it Bulla. Goten's been so much happier lately. He used to only put on a smile so the girls wouldn't worry but Gohan and I knew better. I really think you're actually what Goten's been needed, Bulla. He deserves a girl like you." A girl like her! The guilt was unbearable. If only Videl knew the truth. Goten deserved so much better than her.

Bulla said her goodbyes to Gohan and Videl telling them she had a wonderful time then she and Goten made their way to his car. On the way back to Lilac, Goten was in a pretty chatty mood so they talked about the events of the day and it kept Bulla's mind preoccupied from thinking about other things. Like their relationship and how any of it would work out.

It was almost midnight by the time they made it to her apartment and just the street lights gave any light to the darkened street and complexes. "I had a delightful time today. You have quite a wonderful family, Goten."

"Yeah, there great. I guess my nieces are right, that I should visit more. It's just that I've distracted lately." His gaze fell over Bulla, taking every detail.

Bulla's face flushed and body surged with excitement, like it did every time he would look at her like that. "You should. You should always take time to be with loved one. Cause you never know when they'll just be gone." Bulla looked down at her hands, and thought about her parents and wishing she could see them again.

"Speaking from experience?" he asked and placed his hand underneath her chin and pulling it gently till she was facing him till his lips met hers.

"I better get going," Bulla murmured when he had broken the kiss. "It late and I'm pretty tired."

"Would you like to go to South City with me next weekend? We could rent a small yacht and go cruising for the day, do some snorkeling off the reefs. How about it?"

"That would be great," Bulla said delighted about the prospect of spending another day with him.

**Don't worry spicy stuff will be happening in part two. ;)**


	8. Chapter 7 Part 2

**Okay just to give you a fair warning there will be a lemon in here but if you're not comfortable with that sort of thing I have put a note where it begins and ends so you could skip through it if you like. Okay now that has been said, let's get on with the chapter.**

Chapter 7: Part 2

The next week finally arrived. The sun came streaming through the windows. Bulla was dressed and waiting for Goten. She was wearing white shorts, a soft green V-neck T-shirt, sandals, and a straw hat with a wide brim pulled low over her eyes to protect her from the fierce sun. The summer raze were always something to be cautious about. She heard the doorbell shatter the morning quiet of her apartment and she quickly zipped up her tote bag containing her swimsuit, a change of clothes, toiletries and towels.

Goten wore a dark blue T-shirt and white pants that clung to his long legs. Mirrored sunglasses obscured his eyes, so she couldn't read their expression. His think, dark hair, and his built, masculine frame could have graced the cover of any yachting magazine, she thought.

"Come on, let's go," he urged, eager to be on the way. She gave the apartment a last-minute check, then locked the door behind her.

They flew to South City and went immediately to marina. Goten had telephoned ahead to rent a small yacht. They stowed their food and gear on board and, with aid of the auxiliary engine, moved away from the marina and then cruised out to one of the nearby reefs under sail. The white sails billowed and snapped overhead as an endless canopy of sea and sky surrounded them. Bulla felt as though she had escaped into another world, freed from the routine pattern of everyday life, suddenly transported to a cerulean planet of pale blue sky and aquamarine waters and the gentle sway of the yacht.

She joined Goten in the cockpit and sat covering herself in sunscreen as he guided the yacht to a point not far from the reef they wanted to explore. After finding an anchorage, Goten announced that they would row a dinghy to the reef. It would come in handy when they wanted to rest from snorkeling, he added.

Bulla put on her purple bikini, lacing the strings just right so it wouldn't fall off while they swum. She swept up her hair, and tied it into a bun and slipped off her small hoop earrings. As she finished, Goten, in his swimming trunks, emerged from below decks. They stood gazing at each other for a long moment. His sleekly muscled length towered over her.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes still sliding over her in undisguised appreciation. She nodded briefly, and they climbed into the inflated dinghy, and Goten rowed to where they could see the reef directly below them. They both dove the clear waters, plunging beneath the surface into a world of brilliant colors and strangely swaying gardens. The impact of it all stunned Bulla's senses, and she gazed around entranced. Goten swam alongside, and they cruised the area easily, with their flippers propelling them effortlessly.

"It's gorgeous!" Bulla cried as they surfaced.

"Watch out for the stinging coral down below. I'll show you which one. Whatever you do, don't step on it or touch it," Goten warned.

"Okay," she replied, and adjusted her face mask before they dove beneath the surface again.

Goten signaled to her which coral to avoid, then they swam for well over an hour, exploring the aquamarine deep, Bulla pointing excitedly to the natural wonders that surrounded them.

"The brilliant red ones are snappers, and the one with large bulging eyes that followed us curiously is a grouper," Goten explained as they clung to the side of the boat, resting. "And those small ones with the brilliant strips are called trigger fish. If there's a spear gun on board we can spear some later for our dinner."

They rowed back to the yacht for a late-afternoon lunch. When they had dried off, they went below decks to the small galley. Goten opened up a bottle of sparkling cider and tossed some shrimp into the steamer, and soon they sat down to enjoy salad, fruit, shrimp and rolls.

Nothing had ever tasted so good, Bulla thought, closing her eyes blissfully. The sea, sun and salt air put a sharp edge on her appetite. She had always heard that and now was finding out for herself that it was indeed true.

Afterward they sat on the built-in settees in the main cabin out of the blazing sun and listened to music on the i-home Bulla had brought. The music enhanced the blissful serenity of the day and the situation that they were in another world. A world free of the past, Bulla dreamed to herself. A simple uncomplicated world with just the two of them floating in it, a in a gigantic transparent capsule. She felt she could stay there forever, perfectly content, if no one disturbed her.

"You swim pretty well. Who taught you?"

"My brother—" the words popped out. She stopped short. Too late, she suddenly realized what she had divulged, and they were suddenly in treacherous waters again. To cover up her horrified expression, she ducked her head to take another sip of the cider.

Goten's eyes narrowed, and he studied her intently before he spoke.

"You never mentioned you had a brother." He was watching her closely, and she knew she had to come up with something quick.

"Oh," she replied with embarrassment. "I never talk about him. It's because we don't get along. He lives overseas with his wife. We never see one another."

She saw his face lose its sharpened, suspicious look of curiosity. His wariness was easily aroused, she reminded herself, and was it any wonder?

She watch him lean back, resting one arm over the back of the settee as he stretched muscled legs out in front of him again. His swimming shorts left little to the imagination, and she could help her gaze slipping silent admiration over the built of his body. He had the flawless features of man that even Hercules and the rest of those Grecian gods would be jealous of. She thought she wasn't being obvious about it, but he noticed.

"Like what you see?" He grinned with a teasing note in his voice.

Her face flushed slightly. "You're very good-looking. I'm sure you've had women notice it before."

"Yes. But as soon as they know about my past imprisonment they turn and run like there's no tomorrow."

She flinched and prayed he didn't see it. Their silent, serene world was again being invaded by the dark shadows of the past. She put her head back wearily, knowing it had been too good to last. She felt his eyes on her. After a long moment, he moved towards her, sliding over to where she was sitting, and removed the glass from her hand.

"You realize what's going to happen if we keep on seeing each other like this," he murmured in her ear as his hand circled her waist and pressed against her bare skin.'

Her eyes closed blissfully at his touch.

"I'm already having problems keeping my hands off of you. And it's getting harder all the time." He bent his head and kissed the sun-warmed curve of her neck and shoulder. She sighed audibly and clenched her eyes at the powerful response it drew from her.

"Bulla." He whispered huskily in her ear and turned her into his arms so that she felt the hot urgency that suddenly danced between them as his mouth covered hers with infinite tenderness.

She kept her eyes closed and felt his sun-heated body against her own, unable to move as he slowly prized her lips apart with a long drugging kiss. Felling her response, he pressed his body into hers, urging her back against the settee, nudging her legs apart. She groaned softly at the powerful sensations that began to eddy low in her body, and soon a fiery urgency grew between them, blotting out everything around them and wrapping them in a dark tunnel of desire that rushed around her, pulling her down into it. Vaguely she knew that she was kissing him back as wildly as he was kissing her. Occasionally he broke the kisses and whispered his rough need and grasped her hips, rolling her against him with a hot, compulsive need.

Bulla knew she had to stop him. Shadows of the past were there, between them. She couldn't forget her guilt or escape her fear, even now, like this. Suddenly she pushed away, slid out from beneath him and moved towards the companionway.

When Bulla reached the deck, she stood there, her head tipped back to the sun, breathing in deeply to calm herself, trying to slow the pounding of her heart. She had to use some self-control; the words kept banging away in her head.

Goten came on deck and plunged over the side into the water, perhaps to cool off the desire that had built with such speed between them. A few minutes later, he used the rope ladder on the transom to get back into the yacht, and he stood with water streaming down his body. His eyes studied the horizon, and then he walked over to where she stood. He stayed a few feet away, as if he didn't trust himself to get any closer.

"So you want to have some grouper for your dinner?" he enquired with an engaging smile.

"Yes." She smiled back. "Do you think you can catch one?"

They were both trying to put what had happened behind them, trying to pretend that things weren't rapidly spinning out of control.

"There's a spear gun over there. I used one some years ago and with a bit of luck, I haven't forgotten how."

Goten picked up the gun and climbed back down into the dinghy. Bulla followed, and they rowed back to the spot they had explored before lunch.

They spent the afternoon trying to spear one of the groupers that prowled the area. Though the grouper isn't a particularly clever fish, the ones they saw somehow always managed to dart behind a rock at an inopportune moment. Nor did the spear gun function properly, and it was well over an hour before they were successful and Goten got two. They swam back to the boat and climbed tiredly into it.

"Oh." Bulla collapsed onto the bottom of the rubber craft. "I'm not used to all this swimming. I don't know if I'll have the strength left to cook those fish."

When they reached the yacht, Bulla lay on the deck, resting, as water streamed off her body into little pools onto the spotless teak deck. Goten got out a filleting knife and cleaned the fish. Then they went below decks, where Bulla poured glasses of fruit punch over crushed ice and then collapsed onto the settee.

"We can stay overnight on the yacht," Goten said as he stood over her with the cooling drink in his hand.

Bulla eyes traveled up the length of him, from his long powerful legs, to his narrowed hips and his muscled torso and on up to his face. She what he was asking, and she what it would mean if she stayed on board. He would want her to sleep with him. That was perfectly obvious. Desire curled deep inside her. She didn't want to answer. She stood up and walked towards the galley to get some more ice for her drink.

"You know what's happening between us, Bulla. Don't you? You know sooner or later we're going to end up in bed together."

"Stop!" She covered her ears, not wanting to face up to the realities of their situation. What he said was true. She could feel it. They couldn't go on spending so much time alone together. They couldn't go on getting locked into passionate embraces. Sooner or later one of them wasn't going to have the strength of will to stop. She turned to face him.

"You're not a child, Bulla. And I'm no saint," he said flatly. "I don't know how much longer I can hold off, I want you like hell. You must know the effect you have on me. It's taking all my willpower to stop whenever we start anything."

She wasn't able to think of a thing to say. She couldn't deny what was happening between them. It was useless to try.

His face grew serious. "It's not only going to bed with you that I've been thinking about. I've been thinking about a lot of other things too," he added, his voice low-pitched and compelling.

"I've been thinking of _us_ on a long-term basis, together."

"Stop. Idon'twanttodiscussanythinglikethat." The words shot out of Bulla mouth so fast that they all ran together. Goten turned and looked at her with a grave, perplexed expression in his eyes, and she placed her hands on his arms.

"Everything has happened so fast between us," she murmured in a soft, pleading voice, but even to her own ears the words sounded hollow. She had to stall, to hold him off, she thought frantically. She just couldn't deal with this.

"Do you want me?" he asked huskily. "I have to know. Because if you don't, I want to get out of your life. I can't be around you otherwise. And if there's somebody else, I want you to tell me. I want you, Bulla, but I won't share you." His eyes watched her closely, reading her carefully.

"There's no one else," she murmured. She was very tempted to invent someone, but she knew she couldn't lie to him. She would never lie where he was concerned ever again.

"Do you want me?" he urged intently.

"Yes, I want you." The understatement of her words mocked her. She could hardly think of anything else at times like this when he was near and her whole being seemed to cry out for him.

He looked at her speculatively. His gaze didn't waver. It was as if he were thinking very carefully about what he was going to say next. He was reluctant to say it; the cold expression on his face indicated that he was expecting rejection.

"I haven't talked about anything more, Bulla, because I wasn't sure, what with my past experience, you would want anything permanent." He paused briefly before going on. "I thought at first we could have whatever we want on a causal basis. But I'm not made like that. I want more than that. I want you to tell me how you feel." His expression was grave, and he watched her closely for a reaction.

She was shaken by his words. Stunned. He didn't know what he was asking. He had no idea! For them it was impossible. And she couldn't even tell him why. She saw the handsome features of his face harden into the cynical mask he wore whenever the world dealt him another low blow. There was a sardonic flick to the corner of his mouth before he spoke. His black eyes were hard and calculating.

"I can see the answer in your face. There's no need to explain."

His words were cutting and derisive. All the tenderness and warmth that she had caught glimpses of had been concealed once again behind the inflexible mask he wore. The expression in his eyes tore at her conscious. She didn't want to hurt him again, but what else could she do? She couldn't encourage him to think of long-term commitments for the simple reason that she couldn't hide her true identity from him indefinitely. And she couldn't live a lie forever.

"Tell me, Bulla. What do you want? A casual fling. Some really good sex," he drawled. "I think I can accommodate you." His voice was deep and husky but with an edge of sarcasm. His hands bit into her soft flesh, and he yanked her towards him, kissing her with bruising intensity. There was no tenderness now. Her hands instantly seized the solid muscles of his upper arms, and a soft moan of protest rose in her throat.

She tore her head away. "Please! That's not what I want, either," she gasped.

"What do you want?" he challenged, shoving her away, almost roughly.

She stood looking at him with a bruised expression in her eyes as she rubbed her arms where his hands had left red marks. She saw the quiet white fury of his anger blaze to the surface just as it had in the alleyway, and she saw him struggling to contain it.

"We better go back," she said shaken.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"I can't answer you. I don't want a casual fling. You must know that."

"Then why in the hell do you keep seeing me," he demanded with soft menace, "If you don't want anything more than that?"

"Because I can't stay away from you," she cried. "Because I want to be with you all the time."

Her words must have had a ring of truth in them—they seemed to reverberate through him, and he stood convinced, his anger dissipating.

Goten moved forward and put his hands on her arms again, rubbing them gently up and down.

"We can put what happened to me behind us. It doesn't have to make any difference to the way we feel about each other."

Bulla wanted to say yes, yes, I know we could. We could a wonderful life together, loving each other and raising a family. But all the inconsistencies, all the little lies and the attempts needed to cover up the past danced around in her head, and she knew somehow it would all prove futile. Sooner or later she would trip up.

"I can't explain," she said softly. "You'll just have to believe me when I say I can't help it. I don't want a casual fling, but I can't think of the long term with you. I wish with all my heart that things were different, but I can't change them." She beseeched him with her eyes.

His gaze bored into hers, and she sensed that he felt her anguish, that she had somehow conveyed it to him and touched a sensitive chord in him. She realized instantly that perhaps it was because at one time he, too, had vainly tried to convince people of the truth of something that, to all appearances, looked false. Perhaps some of the anguish he had known at the trial surfaced from deep inside him, reminding him of what it was like, and he sensed that she was telling the truth. That whatever her reasons for avoiding any commitment to him, she did care for him, she did want him; he knew that.

"Do you love me?" Goten asked.

_More than words can ever say. I love you like I've never loved another human being,_ she wanted to say. But how could she?

Something flickered in his eyes, and his hands tightened on her arms once again. "Bulla," he whispered hoarsely, and then he gathered her in his arms and began to kiss her with an aching tenderness, first her face, her cheeks, then her mouth as her arms came slowly around him and tightened.

**(LEMON! BE WARNED!)**

She kissed him back softly at first, sliding her hands up the smooth skin if his back across his shoulder blades, pulling her softness into him, clinging to him. He groaned huskily and bent his head and gave her those insistent rhythmic kisses that set her on fire.

Gradually their need for each other began to take over, building a fiery urgency between them, racing between them like a hot current. He welded her to his frame, pressing her onto his growing hardness and whispering hoarse incoherent things into her ears as he ground her hips against his. Their legs tangled in an urgent, restless need to get nearer, and his hands moved restlessly over her body, up and down her back in a fiery path.

Then he untied the strings of her bikini top, letting it slid down the smooth skin if her body, to the floor. His drugged eyes gazed at her as she stood in front of him, her breasts rising and falling with the aroused state of her breathing. She clutched his arms when she reached out to steady herself in this sea of desire that rippled between them, and he pulled her towards the master bunk.

Once inside the bunk he pulled her into his arms and pressed his face into the soft curve of her neck. "I need you so much. You want me?" he whispered raggedly.

"Yes." The word seemed to be dragged from somewhere deep inside her. When he drew back, His eyes were abstracted with aroused desire. As he pulled her back into his arms, his hands molded the soft flesh of hips compulsively and intimately against him. He was fully aroused, and Bulla gasped as he pressed his hard pulsing need in her.

Goten put her on the bed, and his fever-slitted eyes gazed down over the swell of her breasts, her small waist and the curving hips to the tantalizing triangle, down the long sweep of her legs and back up again. He lowered his hard, toughened masculine body over her soft curves and pressed his face between her breasts. Boneless and pliant, Bulla was drowning. She closed her eyes as he turned his head, teasing her sensitive taut nipples, his hands sliding beneath the curve of her hips and holding her locked under him. She felt desire shudder through him just as it surged through her and made her ache to have him inside her. He lifted his head and murmured huskily in her ear what he wanted to do to her. Goten pulled the rest of her bikini off and quickly took his own swimsuit off. Parting her lips, he kissed her and thrust deep inside her. Bulla shuddered, and Goten's feeble hold on control snapped.

All hell seemed to break loose. It was a wild joining together, her legs tangled with his in a desperate need to get closer. Goten's body contracted again and again and again. Bulla's senses sank into a lustrous world of breathtaking sensation. All inhibition fled as her mind centered on the hot excitement building inside her. Her hands clenched his sleek powerful shoulders as he drove her with frenzied need. His body plunging deep inside hers created a torture so exquisitely intense she couldn't stand it. His incoherent exclamations rent the air. His velvet thrusts drove her to the edge of sanity until, together, they reached the highest peak of release and the very air seemed to explode around them. Goten body pulsed into hers as he buried his face in the soft curve of her neck. His hands clenched the soft curves of her hips spasmodically to him. His labored breathing rasped sharply in Bulla's ears.

Bulla lay drifting with her with her eyes closed, floating on a sea of utter tranquility; Goten's body, spent, quivered with aftershocks. They lay in that quiet pool of oblivion for long blissful minutes, neither one wanting to say anything or move. Finally Goten stirred, rolled over and lay on his back with one arm tossed over his eyes.

**(END OF LEMON)**

"Kami, what you do to me," he breathed raggedly. His hand slid to hers and clasped it as his breathing trailed softly back to something resembling normal.

Bulla was still in a state of stunned, heightened awareness, awakened to a world of indescribable pleasure. It was only Goten who had the key to unlock it. She wondered if it would be possible to achieve again, thinking that it had been some rare elusive thing that surely only happened once in a lifetime.

Goten rolled over again and gazed down at her with lazy eyes. The fire had been banked, but it still flickered, waiting to blaze again. He slid his hand underneath her jaw and up the side of her face, and bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips. When he looked again into her mystified blue eyes, she was staring at him in silent wonderment.

"This changes everything between us. Now we know where we stand," he said with a trace of huskiness in his voice. "What we've just had. It's like a drug. We'll want again and again. I won't be able to stay away. I'll want you all the time now." He kissed her again, his tongue darting inside her mouth, his hands sliding over soft curves, over her breasts with a now-familiar possession. And soon his body began to quicken, and their legs intertwined, and the tender kisses became more insistent and then urgent as they once again canyoned and climbed in that lustrous world of pleasure again, lost in each other.

They spent the night on the yacht, and much of the next day, cruising back in the afternoon and flying back to Lilac before nightfall. Though they were comfortable together, they were both lost in their own thoughts, not saying much. Each wondering how this new dimension between them would affect their lives.

Bulla tried not to think too much. It was dangerous to do so, the way things were. In the car, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes and dozed until they reached her apartment. Goten helped her with her bag and walked her to the door. There, he stopped and kissed her hard and long as if he didn't want her to forget for one minute what there was between them.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow. Can I take you home and come over in the evening?"

Bulla nodded, completely besotted by the look in his eyes.

"I'd better go now or else I won't go at all. I want to come in with you, but I keep telling myself to hold back, not to rush you."

His words brought an ache deep within her. She wanted to invite him to stay. She knew what he said was the truth, because she felt her whole being responding instantly to his touch, as if ever nerve ending in her body had been deeply sensitized, finely tuned to him, and she knew she was putty in his hands. Whatever he wanted, she wanted, and she simply couldn't think straight when he was around—she thought with her heart, her senses and her body. Common sense seemed to only enter when it came to hiding her true identity, and that was more a kind of desperate cunning rather than judgment.

She waved goodbye to him and disappeared inside the darkened apartment.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Something tells me you had a very nice weekend," Valese said the next morning in the office. "Could it be that sparkle in your eyes?"

"I did," Bulla replied, and tried to suppress a ridiculous piece of hair at the corners of her mouth, making her want to smile all the time at everything like loon. People would think she was mad if she kept on grinning, she thought. But she had awakened this morning with the feeling that life was exceedingly wonderful and that she was floating in some kind of crazy bubble of delight. Everything seemed delightful.

"Could it have something to do with a certain Son Goten, I wonder?" Valese tapped a pencil on Bulla's desk with idle speculation.

"Maybe," Bulla replied. She tried unsuccessfully to make her expression grave and to look Valese in the eye.

"I think I'm getting the picture. And what has Mr. Son Goten done now?"

_Mr. Son Goten had done everything now,_ Bulla thought, smiling yet again.

"We went to the South City marina and cruised and snorkeled, and it was just marvelous, absolutely marvelous. I'd never been snorkeling around a coral reef before. The beauty of it overwhelms."

"The cruising and the snorkeling left you breathing and panting for more. Are you sure that was all that made it so unforgettable?"

Bulla's face flushed slightly. "That was part of it," she murmured hastily, looking down at some papers on her desk.

"Is this getting serious?" Valese asked as she put her hands the desk and looked at her friend, her brown eyes widening. "Is he serious, or is he just out for a mad fling?"

"It's getting very serious." Bulla conveyed just how serious by gazing helplessly at her old friend, as the whole dilemma rose up in her mind and the specter of what she was going to do about it hovered over everything, unanswered.

"I'm not really a mad fling sort of person," she added quietly.

"I know that. But what about him?"

"Neither is he." Bulla wanted to end the conversation, keep it from going any further, check it somehow. "Everything has happened so fast. We both need time to think."

"Too much thinking can sometimes be dangerous," Valese replied. "Well, I have to go and do some work. I'll see you at lunchtime."

Bulla watched Valese disappear behind the bank of plants surrounding her desk and then got busy organizing her day. She tried not to think too much about Goten, but when she was not absorbed in her work, he inevitably crept into her mind, uninvited. She didn't know where their feelings for each other were going to lead. But she knew she didn't want to let him go. It was impossible for her to even consider that thought now. She decided that the best route was to take it one day at a time. Because she simply couldn't think of anything else to do.

After work Goten was out in the parking lot, waiting as he had said he would be. Bulla's heart danced at the sight of him leaning against his car, looking for her. She bid Valese farewell as soon as she saw him. Valese, needing no explanations, waved cheerfully back to her.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Bulla called as she walked away. Then she turned impulsively. "What did your sister-in-law have? You never told me."

"A baby boy. Nine pounds, three ounces," Valese said, rolling her eyes.

Bulla smiled and turned around to face Goten, who opened the car door for her.

"Phoenix wants me to go on night flights all this week," He announced in a voice laced with exasperation. "That means I can't see you, I'll be flying every night this week. It's a special contract."

They looked at each other hungrily.

"I want to be with you," he said quietly, "but it's impossible."

"I'll see you on the weekends," she replied, unable to hide her disappointment. "Maybe it would be best if we didn't see each other for a few days. It will give us a chance to think things out more objectively."

"Will you think over what we talked about? I don't want a casual affair any more than you do. I want to see my engagement ring on your finger. Will you give it some thought? I'm sure we can work out whatever it is that's worrying you, Bulla," he urged. "Almost any problem can be solved when two people talk things over in the right frame of mind."

His ebony eyes held her pinned, earnestly drawing her into the potency of his masculinity, which held her mesmerized. Her eyes slid over every feature of his handsome face. His dark hair that spiked high above his head and seem to defy the physics of gravity. _I love you,_ she thought. _I love you so much. I don't quite know how it happened but I can't imagine loving anyone more than I do you._

Bulla leaned forward and brushed his lips with her own.

"I want you to remember something, Goten," she said. "Whatever happens between us, I love you. I love you more than anything. I want you to remember that. Will you always remember that?"

His black eyes narrowed quizzically. "If you love me, why can't you make a commitment to me? I don't understand. Bulla, what is it?" His hand slid to her jaw and clasped its delicate contours, and his eyes searched hers for an answer. But she withheld it.

"Damn it," he swore softly underneath his breath. "We shouldn't have any secrets from each other if we love each other. Promise me that you'll tell me what it is when I get off this night run."

She stared at him, frozen. _Don't make me do that,_ her mind cried out.

"Promise me." He demanded, his hands clenching tightly to her upper arms.

"I promise." The words popped out, and she wished instantly she could call them back.

That seemed to satisfy him. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I know we can sort it out, whatever it is. You're probably blowing it up all out of proportion." He bent his head and kissed her with a long, coaxing kiss that drew an instant response from her so that he pressed her into him and then kissed her again, his hands sliding over her soft curves. Then he broke abruptly away.

"I've got to get back," he murmured in that voice that seemed to drop a notch or two when he was aroused, that sounded husky and almost rusty from disuse. He started the engine with an impatient flick of his wrist and drove swiftly out of the parking lot and through town to her apartment.

"I'll call you as soon as I get back," he promised as he helped her from the car, his eyes brightening with intent. Then he turned and climbed back into the car and drove away.

All that week Bulla worked hard, relieved to have something to absorb her for long periods of time. But always in the back of her mind was the worried of coming up with some explanations for Goten. She tried to put it away from her, but it kept returning with painful anxiety.

She thought of how she would broach the subject. She could work her way into it and tell him first something about her family life at that time, explain some of the extenuating circumstances that led up to lying in court. She would tell him about her loyalty to her brother, how they had always been close growing up, especially when their stepfather had come into their lives. How they had stood up for each other against his violent mood swings. How they had always tried to cover up for each other when something had gone wrong. How Trunks had come to her rescue that awful day. She could tell him, too, she thought, about how they'd reacted in different ways to the pressures and strains of this unhealthy situation. How her brother had become restless and wild, always out with a different girl, gradually getting wilder as he grew older, while Bulla had gone completely the opposite way, withdrawing into herself and fading into the background.

Should she even try to tell him this? Would it do any good at all? And then, when she had prepared him, set the stage, so to speak, trotted out the awful unpalatable truth of how both she and her brother had lied, perjured themselves in court—what then?

She had seen the two sides of his personality, the warmth and tenderness and deep passion he was capable of, and the hard, flinty sudden anger that sprang from some hidden well within him. She remembered the incident with the man called Sumio, who had heckled Goten in the club. Though her instincts told her he would never take his aggression out on her, the way her stepfather had, her instincts offered no assurance about what might happen to the feelings he had for her, the desire that surged between them, the passion they felt for each other. Would his anger extinguish those feelings? Which would be the stronger?

She ran a hand through her hair. She didn't know the answer. She couldn't even guess. She couldn't even be able to imagine him being able to care for her after discovering the truth. She pushed her hand over her eyes, as if to rub away the weariness that all these dark, disturbing thoughts brought on.

She had to tell him, she concluded. She had to tell him. But she couldn't imagine losing him, or, she should say, she couldn't imagine living without him. But they couldn't go on this way.

_Why not?_ Temptation asked. _Many people have affairs._ She sighed and knew she wasn't made that way. She wanted marriage and all that went with it. And from what he had told her, so did he. She couldn't live a lie. No matter what it cost. Let him know, she decided, and then face the consequences. Her mind was made up.

The days passed in swift succession. On Friday, anticipation spread through Bulla like a fever. She knew she'd be seeing Goten soon. Her heart skipped a beat, and her steps were quick and light as she walked towards the parking lot, completely forgetting about her resolve to explain everything to him. Only the pleasure of the prospect of seeing him again, having him near, surged inside her. Being with him overruled every other feeling.

She walked briskly towards her car. The garage had finally located the needed parts and had repaired it, and she didn't need a ride home from Valese anymore. She saw a tall, nice-looking man leaning against one of the cars near hers. He seemed to be waiting for someone. Bulla's gaze slid over the man's short purplish hair, his stylish casual clothes, and his expensive looking shoes. There was something eerily familiar about him, and Bulla wondered vaguely where she knew him from.

As Bulla drew nearer, her heart began to bang and pound worryingly against her ribs in rising fear. Flashing warning lights and alarm bells seemed to be going on and off inside her brain. Her worst fears had materialized as the tall figure moved away from the car and came towards her.

"Bra, sis! Bra, is that you? Damn, I can't believe what I'm seeing!" he said, tossing down his half smoked cigarette and crushing it.

Bulla stood dazed and sickened with shock as her brother moved forward to greet her, throwing his arms around her and squeezing her in a bone-crushing embrace.

"I would have never recognized you! You've completely changed from that girl I used to know," Trunks exclaimed, and stepped back to inspect her. "The only way I knew you was from this picture you sent me." He fished in his back pocks and produced a tattered snapshot.

Bulla squeezed her eyes shut in mortification. With a sharp pang of regret she remembered sending that snapshot on impulse. Valese had taken the picture of her the last winter when they went ice-skating, and feeling proud of herself for learning how to skate, she had enclosed it in a letter to Trunks. She hadn't thought of the possibility of Trunks returning to visit. He'd never bothered to before, not in all these years.

"How did you find me?" Bulla asked weakly, already knowing the answer.

"Aunt Tights, the old bitch, told me you were living in a small town called Lilac and working at Lilac Aviation. She said that you had changed your name, and when I asked, she gave me your address. The janitor at the apartments told me where the aviation was, and then I took a cab and waited out here. I figured you'd get off work soon. Wait a minute, I've got the cab over there. Now that you're here, I'll let him go." He disappeared for a few minutes, and all the while Bulla struggled to keep her wits about her as rising panic attacked her. Trunks returned, and Bulla noted he still moved in his own inimitable way that drew passing female glances.

"Man, it's so good to see you sis," Trunks said. "You look great. I always knew would grow up into a beautiful woman, and I wasn't wrong. But then, I'm hardly ever wrong, am I?" he teased, laughing softly.

But it's not good to see you! Bulla wanted to cry out, still reeling from the shock of her brother's sudden appearance in her already turbulent life. Everything suddenly got misty around her. Her mind struggled to assert dominion over her stunned emotions, and then she began to react, and react swiftly.

"My car's over there," she said, pointing to it. "Let's get going. We've got a lot to talk about." She must get Trunks away from here as quickly as possible, before Goten turned up, before her brother gave away everything. Bulla opened the door of her car and glanced furtively around. Her face paled as she saw Goten striding from the far side of the parking lot, obviously heading straight for them.

"Get in," Bulla prompted. Alerted by the anxiety in his sister's voice, Trunks glanced up instantly.

"What's the matter, Bra?" he asked, a frown of puzzlement crossing his handsome face.

"Whatever you do, don't call me Bra," Bulla whispered, and quickly shoved him inside and hurried to follow him. Having spotted her, Goten began to jog across the parking lot towards them.

_Oh, Kami, please don't let him see us. Please,_ Bulla thought fervently as she fumbled with her key in the ignition, trying desperately to get the car started and to get away before Goten could catch a glimpse of Trunks in the front seat of the car. Bulla twisted the key in the ignition. The car stalled, the engine dying. She had to quell a sob.

"Please start. Oh, please start," she whispered to herself. The engine caught on the second try. Bulla put her foot down on the gas pedal and the car lurched forward. She twisted the wheel to swerve away from Goten, but it was too late. She saw his gaze sweep over her, and Trunks and she saw the look of stunned recognition surge across his face as the car sped on out of the lot.

Goten stood riveted to the spot where he had stopped running and watched the car disappear into the heavy evening traffic.

Bulla didn't look back, she couldn't bring herself to. She drove at a fast clip, her eyes filling with tears as Trunks' speechless gaze stayed riveted on her face.

"Has my coming to visit upset you? I didn't mean to upset you this way." He reached into his back pocket pulled out another cigarette and a lighter. "Or is it something else…Bulla?" he hesitated over her new name Bulla noted, as if uncomfortable with it but intent on using it because he could see Bulla was deeply disturbed and he didn't want to upset her any more.

Was she upset? Bulla's mouth twisted into a grim smile at what had to be the understatement of the century. Coming from Trunks, it made her want her laugh hysterically. Trunks thought she was all choked up about his returning. He didn't know that the man standing back there in the parking lot, the only man Bulla had ever loved and possibly might ever love so completely, might have just discovered, judging from the look of white shock on his face, that _she _had helped to put him in prison. Not only helped to put him in prison, but also altered the whole course of his life, taken the best years of that life, taken him away from his family, ruined his reputation and made it impossible for him to get the kind of job he really wanted after years of vigorous training. And the man who was responsible for it all sat beside her, thinking Bulla was all choked up with sentimentality over seeing her brother again. The cruel irony struck her, unhinged her momentarily so that she began to laugh and cry at the same time. Tears rolled down her face, and it was all she could do to drive the short distance to her apartment. Trunks looked at Bulla as if his sister had taken a compete leave of her senses.

"What in the hell's the matter? I don't know whether you're laughing or crying."

"Neither do I, neither do I."

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Finally the car cruised to a stop in front of Bulla's apartment. They got out of the car and as they walked towards the building, Bulla looked fervently over her shoulder, praying that Goten hadn't followed them in some blind rage. It looked as though he hadn't. She breathed a sigh of relief. No one at Lilac's seemed to have taken much notice, and she hurried Trunks inside the tiny apartment, glad of the sanctuary it provided. Once inside, she slammed the door and walked across the room in agitation and swung around to face her brother.

"Trunks, why did you come here?" Bulla whispered, sinking back into the overstuffed sofa. "I told Aunt Tights not to tell anyone where I was," she added fiercely, as anger surged inside her. They could never rely on Aunt Tights for much, but she thought she could rely on her to keep quiet. She had thought she could trust the old woman.

"Well, I'm not just anyone," Trunks pointed out. "I am your brother, in case you've forgotten. And I wanted to see you." Trunks took a deep drag on his cigarette and crushed it out in the nearest ashtray.

What on earth for? I don't want you here, Bulla wanted to shout, but held it in.

"I've left Maddison," Trunks said quietly, his face very still, not a glimmer of emotion showing through. Bulla reflected that Trunks was still tough as nails.

"What do you mean you left Maddison?" Bulla asked with growing dismay.

"Let's just say that I couldn't live with her anymore. I've tried, and it doesn't work. I should have trusted my instincts and never married. I strongly suspected that I wasn't the marrying type. Can I stay with you for a while? He suddenly asked.

"I helped you once, Trunks," Bulla whispered, "Because you helped me. I felt I owed it to you, and because of that loyalty and because of my fear of Yamcha, I did something terrible. I testified under oath that I saw Son Goten driving that car when you left to go clubbing with him. Both of us know you were the one behind the wheel." She could see that Trunks remembered all too well. "I did something I shall never be able to forget. Please don't ask me to turn my life up-side-down again. You don't know what you've done by coming here," she murmured distractedly. "You may have spoiled something I wanted with all my heart. But I knew that it was hoping for too much…sooner or later, something like this was bound to happen, so I guess I can't really blame it on you."

Trunks moved closer, intrigued and curious and not without a certain amount of worry. Where Bulla was concerned, in spite of Trunks' tough appearance, there was a soft spot for his sister.

"What is it, sis? You can tell me. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about what happened in the past. It's played on my mind over the years. But I was not and never will be a big enough person to do anything about it, so don't ask me to." He sighed. "But why drag all this up again? What have I spoiled by coming here? You were so upset driving me to your home, Br—Bulla. It wasn't because I turned up, it wasn't a burst of sentimentality over my arrival. I don't pride myself that feelings are that strong between us anymore. It's been years since we were close."

Bulla stared at him silently, knowing she would have to tell him. Trunks had picked up the scent of her fear.

"It's about Son Goten," Bulla said flatly.

Trunks drew in his breath sharply. "He's got to be out of prison by now. Has he found you, threaten to hurt you in some way? Has he come looking for revenge?" he shook his head. "No, you're Bulla Lacestings now. Has my turning up here somehow destroyed your cover-up?"

The look in Bulla's eyes must have spoken volumes. Trunks rushed on. "That it, isn't it? Son Goten is somewhere around here, and he knows you, but he doesn't know who you really are. Now that I've shown up, you're worried he's going to discover your true identity." His eyes widened at the realization. "Tell me it's not true. One look at your face, and I'll know I've come close. You never could hide things from me for very long, even when you were little."

Bulla gazed at him for an endless moment and then murmured in a low, anguished voice. "If only that was all it was, Trunks. It's not only that he doesn't know my true identity. I've fallen in love with him, and he doesn't realize who I am."

Trunks was completely stunned and speechless. "Shit!" he whispered. "What a turn of events this is. How the hell did that happen?"

"It's a long story," Bulla murmured wearily. "I went out with him partly out of a sense of guilt, but partly because I was attracted to him. I never dreamed I would fall in love with him. It wasn't something I wanted to happen. It just happened."

Trunks moved away and fished through his pocket, absentmindedly searching for another cigarette, as what Bulla had just told him sank in.

Bulla closed her eyes and leaned back, staring into space, remembering. "And that's not all," she added grimly.

"Tonight as I was frantically trying to get out of the parking lot, he was coming to meet me. He saw you with me. I'm positive of it. That's why I was trying to get away so fast. But we weren't fast enough. I'm positive he recognized you instantly. You haven't changed that much, Trunks. Unfortunately you're still as handsome as ever. Think for a minute, Trunks. What would he think as soon as he saw you with me? It would only take seconds for him to put two and two together. He's not a dimwit."

Trunks' eyes narrowed as he lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. "Maybe he thinks I'm just a friend of yours. Did you consider that? He wouldn't necessarily automatically conclude that you're my sister. Damn, Bulla, you've changed so much since you were sixteen that even I didn't recognize you. How could he be instantly sure, beyond any doubt, that you are my sister, under those circumstances?"

"Maybe he couldn't. But he's awfully quick."

"Try not to panic. You won't know what he's thinking until he comes out with it. Meanwhile, can I stay here with you overnight while I figure out what I'm going to do? I have to hunt around for someplace to stay. After what you've just told me and after what's happened, I realize that I can possibly stay here." He rose from the couch and walked towards the window.

Bulla silently agreed.

"Trunks, did you ever really think about what we did to Goten? You said it played on your mind. Didn't you feel any remorse?"

Trunks whirled around. "Do you think I didn't? I'm not a complete monster," he said. "I liked him. He was a good friend. But I liked myself more." He shuddered. "You just can't imagine—hitting that old man. And Goten was lying there, knocked out when his head hit the windshield. All I had to do was pull him over to the driver's side…. I was terrified of going to jail. I was terrified of what would happen to you. What's done is done. I can't turn back the clock. Neither can you, Bulla. I've thought of it many times. I don't want to talk about it." He crushed out his cigarette. "Just let me stay here tonight, and by tomorrow I'll be on my way," he said almost inaudibly.

As Bulla watched her brother, she knew that Trunks was not without remorse and that he was not as hard as he liked people to think he was.

"It's better if you do go," Bulla explained quietly. "I wouldn't want to be here if I was you if he does come around. I've seen his dark side. Being in prison developed an aggressive streak in him. I've seen him when he's angry. He can be lethal."

Apprehension shadowed Trunks' eyes. "I can imagine. Don't worry, I'll be gone. I'm not desperate at the moment. What I really need to find first is a place to live and then I'll look around for a job. I'd like to settle down somewhere near the ocean, and I haven't decided exactly where that will be. Have you got any suggestions?"

"Why not the Blue Marina or South City."

"I think South City. The Blue Marina is nice but is too small-townish for my taste. Would it make you feel better if I were in South City?" he asked.

"Yes. I could come to visit you, but the distance would be reassuring, taking into account everything else."

They spent the evening becoming reacquainted and poring over real-estate ads and the next morning Bulla drove Trunks to the airport so he could take the shuttle to South City. Trunks promised to call and let her know if he found anything promising.

Bulla returned home, still slightly dazed from Trunks' brief but explosive visit was over, but the damage was done.

Bulla was deep in thought as she parked in front of the apartment building in a kind of remote control. It was only when she looked up she saw Goten. Her heart somersaulted inside her chest, and she almost sobbed with relief.

He was leaning against his Jaguar, smoking a cigarette. His expression was as impenetrable as flint, and she wondered how long he'd been there. She slammed the car door behind her and walked towards him hesitantly. His sensuous black eyes studied her, and the force of his tough masculine presence suddenly filled her senses.

He moved away from the car.

"We were supposed to meet last night. Do you remember?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft. "Or had you forgotten?"

She thought she saw a challenge in his dark, probing eyes. His powerful body seemed to pulsate with tension, and she hurried along the path, as if intent on getting to the door.

"I…oh, yes," she murmured, regarding him from underneath thick lashes. "An old friend turned up out of the blue and…he wanted me to take him to find someone's house. I didn't see you anywhere, and I thought you hadn't got back in time, so we went on without you. And when you didn't call, I thought you'd been held up on route somewhere and couldn't make it back in time." She spoke in a smooth and, what she hoped was a convincing tone.

"I saw you," Goten said evenly. "Leaving the parking lot last night. I saw your friend in a car with you." The way he almost imperceptibly emphasized the words "you friend" sent a sense of alarm splintering through her.

"Oh, did you?" Bulla tried looking at him with feigned puzzlement, feeling her pulses racing in time to the beat of her heart as if in some kind of frenetic dance. She struggled to be calm, to keep her face an impassive mask, as if the friend she had encountered outside of work was just some casual acquaintance who was hardly worth mentioning. She stood gazing at Goten, who suddenly looked dark and dangerous. She felt the flicker of his eyes over her and prayed that her face wasn't betraying what she felt.

"I know that man." He spoke with deceptive nonchalance.

"Do you?" Bulla replied faintly.

Suddenly he seized her wrist, dragging her forward. "I hope to hell this isn't what I think it is, Bulla. I have this crazy idea going around in my head. I'm hoping like hell that I'm wrong."

He dragged her towards the apartment door, and Bulla's heart went into high gear as she guessed what was on his mind. He was almost sure, and he was waiting, hoping that she was going to tell him that he was wrong. With shaking hands, she unlocked the door, and they stepped inside. In the hall, he slammed the door shut and turned to confront her.

"That man in the car that I saw you with, his name is Trunks Briefs." He waited for a long, probing moment.

"Yes, that's right," Bulla replied softly, trying to brazen out what she knew was an increasingly futile position.

"How do you know him? I want you to tell me how you know him, Bulla." He seemed to bite down on the words. And, under the intense probing of his dark stare, Bulla began to experience a dizzying sensation. She had sworn she would never lie to him again. And here she was about to do it. The thought sickened her, but so did the idea of losing him. She couldn't lose him, she thought desperately, as a feeling of helplessness swamped her.

"I know him from Ginger Town," she said. That wasn't a lie. She and Trunks had gone there several times to visit their aunt. But it was lying by omission, and Goten's finely honed instincts didn't miss it.

He leaned forward and grabbed her arms to draw her up against him. Their faces were only inches apart, and he spoke in a very soft voice.

"Bulla, I'm going to ask you this once and once only. I'm not ever going to ask you again, but I want the truth." He shook her with a kind of gentle violence.

A tremor shot through her body as she gazed into the face of the man she loved, the man she was terrified of losing, but she knew she couldn't lie to him. Her words caught on a slightly breathy sob as she lowered her gaze and, almost inaudibly, she answered.

"He's my brother."

Goten's face froze into a harsh, ridge mask. His eyes seemed to lose all life in them from the shock of her admission. This was quickly followed by an unwinding of some indefinable potent emotion, accompanied by an antarctic freeze in his eyes and demeanor that was indescribable. He thrust her away from him abruptly.

"Damn you," he said with a strange, strangled roughness in his voice. "Damn you to hell!" He turned and left, slamming the door so hard that the whole apartment reverberated with the sound and front window had cracked. Bulla heard the screech of tires in the driveway and she put her hands to her face as tears flooded her eyes and she fell on her knees as sobs racked her body.

Bulla lived in a kind of dividing line after the confrontation with Goten. She spent most of Sunday wandering around the apartment, barely knowing what she was doing, staring into space for long periods of time. She was afraid to contact Goten, and he made no effort to contact her. She went mechanically through the day wondering what she could do, if anything. Her thoughts chased one after another in circles, and her mind came up with no answers. There were no answers. Everything was finished between them. She was sure of it.

The huge gym was busy with men using every piece of equipment. Soto Nockamora lifted his twenty pound dumbbells in frustration with his head bent, contemplating for a long moment what he was going to say to his friend. He raised his head and stared at his friend, Son Goten, who was punching the crap out of one of the punching bags in front of him. Goten stopped and waited to hear what he had to say.

"Dude! You're beating on that thing like you really got it in for somebody. It's not just a day at the gym for you today, is it? I never seen you like this. You're usually a pretty calm guy, but today you're deadly."

The gymnasium echoed all around them with the squeak of shoes and the gleaming hardwood floors and the slam of his fists into the heavy bag in front of him. Goten and Soto Just finished their two hour work out and he gave the bag another blow. Goten knew there was a deadly look in his eyes, that flat, dense look riddled with aggression that he had developed in prison. Soto's words hardly penetrated his thoughts. His mind was on Bulla. The scene in the parking lot outside Lilac's kept flicking through his consciousness with restless repetition. He couldn't get it out of his head. It kept flashing through his mind repetitively, like sounds echoing through the gym, making him tear through that punching bag with a kind of ruthless rage.

Trunks Briefs sitting there large as life in the car as it drove by. Trunks Briefs sitting next to Bulla. Trunks was Bulla's brother. The one she had mentioned who lived overseas. It had all come together in his mind in an insidious flash when he confronted Bulla. He had halfway guessed the truth, but had hoped like hell it was just a crazy, wild idea. But that had not been the case. Bulla's confession had torn into him, leaving a deep gaping hole in his spirit, a mortal wound to his emotions. Bulla was Trunks Briefs' sister! Damn, how had he not recognize her? She had looked different then. In truth, he had barely noticed her. She had been one of those withdrawn quiet types. Even now his memory of her and how she looked then was vague. It had been Trunks who had held his attention at the trial. It was Trunks who was his friend, it was Trunks not his shadowy sister.

That pale, shy, slender completely forgettable girl had turned into a bewitching, intriguing beauty. She had been nothing then, but suddenly she had become everything. What a complete fool he had been, pouring out his heart to her, acting as stupid as a teenager whenever she was around, hardly able to keep his hands off the little bitch who had helped to put him inside. If she were here, he would wring her beautiful neck. It was a good thing she wasn't here, he thought darkly, giving the bag another hard punch, making it fly and swing from side to side in a fast pace.

The bag had a good tear into it when Goten was finished and little tiny grains of sand started spilling out and Goten bent and picked up the terry towel on the bench and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He wouldn't be responsible for his actions if she were here. Soto watched him in silent speculation.

"Whoever she is, Goten? Are you sure she's worth it, pal?"

Goten gave him another deadly stare. Soto held up his hands. "Sorry I asked. I'll keep my mouth shut. What about a drink? I sure could use one. What about you?"

Goten flicked his head in the direction of the locker room. "I'm going to go and get cleaned up, and then I'll meet you for a drink."

"Okay," Soto said, swinging his towel over his shoulders and heading for the showers himself. "I'll meet you in twenty minutes at the bar."

Goten watched him go and stood lost in thought for a moment before he moved mechanically towards the locker rooms. Self-derision continued to flow through him in angry waves. He reflected on the way he had pursued Bulla. No wonder she had almost jumped out of her skin whenever they had met. He had to admit to himself that he _did_ go after her. He had certainly done the chasing; she hadn't pursued him. No, he had to concede that. He'd wanted her the first time he'd met her. He couldn't pin that on her. With that angelic face and lush figure, she'd mesmerized him from the first instant he had bumped into her in Alex Phoenix's office. And now what? He asked himself. The dark thought meandered in his mind. He had been seized by a white-hot rage when she admitted she was Trunks' sister, so much so that he'd had to struggle to control it. The work out session in the gym today was proof of it. It had built inside him like a whip, licking at him relentlessly. He had been lethal today. Nobody wanted to get so much as near him. But as least it was an outlet, and an acceptable one, for what he felt. But the anger hadn't gone; it was still seething inside him. He wasn't sure what he was going to do about it.

He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. The cool water hit his skin, and he closed his eyes and let it rush over his muscled shoulders and powerful frame. One thing he knew. He had to stay away from Bulla until he sorted out in his mind exactly how he felt, and he knew he wasn't at all sure what he did feel. To his continuing amazement, he still thought about her all the time, and there were still other powerful emotions mixed in with the anger that he seemed to have no control over. His body ached when he thought of the weekend on the yacht. His powerful body surged at the thought, and he slammed his hand against the shower will. Tonight he would get drunk, really tie one on. And then he would find himself a woman—any woman—and stop driving himself crazy.


	10. Chapter 9

**Because I went on a crazy coffin high last night, you lovies get a another chapter! :D I gonna rest for a day or two before I start writing chapters 10 and 11.**

**So anywhos enjoy the next chapter!**

Chapter 9

On Monday Bulla returned to work. Only three days had passed since Trunks had walked back into her life, but to Bulla those three days seemed like an eternity. When she reached her desk, her gaze swept furtively towards the hanger, but she could see Goten nowhere. She knew that all day long she would be looking for him and that sooner or later she would see him. It was only a matter of time. And she wondered what he would do? Would he even acknowledge her presences? Or would he pretend she didn't exist?

She went to work and didn't look up again until it was lunchtime. Sliding out from behind her desk, she walked slowly to the break room. Again there was no sign of Goten. She ate her lunch with a sinking feeling and returned to her desk. In the afternoon she stopped for coffee at the machine, but saw nothing of him. She concluded that he was making a deliberate effort not to bump into her, probably going out to eat at a nearby fast-food restaurant, skipping his coffee breaks. The death knell sounded for their relationship, as if she needed further proof.

That came on Wednesday.

She saw Goten walk into Mr. Phoenix's office, and all her senses leaped at the sight of him, but he kept his back to her. Her gaze bored into his broad shoulders, willing him in vain to turn around. She knew that he knew she was watching. His rigid stance shouted a silent message across the space of the office. As far as he was concerned, she no longer existed, that was perfectly clear. She swallowed hard, fighting back the sting of tears. Nor did he even angle his head sideways so she could catch a glimpse of his profile, so there was no chance whatsoever that his gaze might stray her way. The silent monolithic message said it all. She watched him with hungry eyes, drinking him in like some thirsting traveler having at last spotted water.

The familiar shape of him, the angle of his head, the hands that had touched her so intimately, the images that flashed through her mind of his body covering hers, twisting with hers in a tangled maze in the heat of passion brought a flush to her face and a deep ache that needed to be filled. She longed to be with him again, simply to feel the way he made her feel in his presence, to experience the fun they had together and, above all else, to feel his mouth covering hers and his arms tightening around her with that quick response as desire raced between them. Now all that was gone. Irretrievably lost. She lowered her gaze and tried to quell the terrible sense of loss and blink back the sting of encroaching tears.

She looked up again to see he was getting ready to leave Mr. Phoenix's office. He walked out the door into the hanger without so much as a glance in her direction, yet she sensed that every sensitive nerve ending in his body was tuned to hers, as hers were to his. She went back to her work, telling herself that it was bound to happen this way. She knew sooner or later, somehow, someway, he would have discovered the truth. Trunks' arrival had only speeded things up. _Look upon it as a favor,_ Bulla told herself. If it had happened later, she would only been that much more in love with him, things would only have been that much harder. The thought didn't comfort her very much because she couldn't imagine being any more in love with him than she already was.

Alex Phoenix glanced her way with a perplexed expression on his face, so she bent her head industriously and put her mind back on her work, chiding herself for being submerged in her personal problems during work hours.

Later that day, Mr. Phoenix called her in.

"Sit down, Bulla," he said, gesturing towards a chair. "I want to have a word with you."

She did as he asked and began to feel uneasy.

He cleared his throat. "I don't usually pry into my employees' private lives, but I can tell you that I'm going to make an exception this time because it involves two people I think very highly of. Two employees whom I would hate to lose."

He rose from the desk and walked around to where she sat. Leaning on the desk, he kept his voice low so that no one could possibly overhear. In spite of the fact that the office was glassed in and the door closed, that he took this added precaution underlined the seriousness of what he was about to say.

"I've heard around the office that you've been seeing Son Goten, Bulla. Now, I don't know what's wrong. That's none of my business. I only know that something's affecting Goten deeply. He's practically undergone a personality change. While there has been no call for complaint, I can see a change in you, too. You're not the same cheerful person, and Goten is like a bear with a thorn in his paw. He's been mean as hell to deal with for the past week. I had to speak to him this morning about it, and he informed me that he's thinking of leaving. I couldn't pry any reason out of him, only a promise that he would think it over for another week before he did anything about it. I don't want to lose an excellent pilot. They're too hard to come by. So I'm butting in, Bulla, to ask if there's anything I can do?"

She shook her head and rose quietly. Mr. Phoenix's words had set off alarm bells inside her head. Goten couldn't afford to leave his job; he might not find another one. Especially one that he was trained for and one that he enjoyed doing. She would leave Lilac's before she would see Goten quit his job. It was so important to him. The knowledge that he was having trouble cut her to the quick.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Phoenix, that…the trouble between Goten and me has had such a negative effect on his behavior and that he's thinking of leaving his job. I appreciate your telling me. I'll talk to him as soon as possible and try to smooth things over the best I can," she murmured. _If that is even possible,_ her mind shouted silently, if he would even listen. But she knew she had to try.

Alex had three daughters—as well as three sons—and was well versed in the full range of feminine behavior. Hers at the moment was a dead giveaway.

"He hasn't done anything wrong, Bulla. His flying, his work, are all impeccable. I want to put your mind at rest on that score."

Bulla gazed steadily into Alex Phoenix's kindly eyes. It was as if he were rooting for the two of them, not simply because he was ensuring that he didn't lose a good employee, but because he wanted to see the two of them work things out. It made her even more fond of him than she already was.

"It's just been hell trying to get along with him. He's been snapping everyone's heads off. That's when he bothers to answer anyone at all." He smiled wryly. "I'm sure that as soon as you two sort out whatever's wrong between you, he'll get back to normal, and so will you."

She smiled back at him. "Thank you, Mr. Phoenix."

"Good luck."

As she left, she wondered how on earth she was going to get Goten to talk to her when he wouldn't even look at her.

She sat back down at her desk and went back to her work, on a kind of automatic pilot, leaving a part of her mind free to figure out some way to talk to him. When she finished with the time schedule, she pulled Goten's application form the files and made a note of his home address.

She left work with the hastily scribbled address stuck in her handbag, and instead of going to her own apartment, drove towards his home.

She knew that if she called, he would probably hang up on her. She knew from experience that it was futile to try to discuss something as serious as this on the phone. It was always better to talk face-to-face. If Goten didn't accept or like what she had to say, he couldn't hang up on her; once she was there, he would have to hear her out.

She drove swiftly towards Lydian Street, and finally, after searching, found a block of condominiums facing a beautiful park. They were expensive-looking, and the neighborhood was well kept. She walked up to the door, sorting out her thoughts and trying to compose herself. She knocked and rang the bell, but there was no answer. The silence was a disappointment. She sighed, regretting having worked herself up to a fever pitch only to discover he wasn't even there. She turned and started to walk down the pathway, trying to think of what to do next, when she saw a black Jaguar slow down, swing into the driveway at a fast clip and then screech to a halt.

It was Goten. Bulla's heart began to beat with a heavy thud, and every nerve in her body danced in tune to his presence.

He slid out of the car like a lazy jungle cat, slammed the car door with an emphatic bang and stood leaning indolently against the side of the Jaguar, surveying her with hard, calculating, insolent eyes. Eyes that said, _what the fuck are you doing here?_

She felt all her resolve draining away and began to tremble imperceptibly under this silent, hostile perusal. She struggled to remain calm, to remember what she wanted to say to him, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. Still she had to try.

"Goten, I have to talk to you. We have to talk," she repeated, and stepped forward.

He moved away from the car and stood towering over her, staring at her enigmatically, saying nothing, weighing, measuring. A chill ran down her spine. He was not in a receptive mood, but it looked as though he was going to let her in and listen out of sheer curiosity. All other emotions were carefully screened and controlled behind his stare.

He led the way to the front entrance of his condo and opened it with a flick of the key. Once inside, he gestured towards a large, airy room that had sliding doors and a patio facing the park.

Bulla walked into the center of the room and stood watching him as he closed the door behind him, her gaze trailing over the fitting jeans that outlined the toned muscles of his long legs and narrowed hips and his casual shirt that clung to his broad shoulders.

Then he turned.

"How are things,_ Bra_?" he said with a flick of cynical scorn, giving emphasis to her old name. "How are you going to lie your way out of this one?" His stare bore into her before he crossed the room.

"I want to explain a few things about what happened all those years ago," she started hesitantly.

"Well that's good. Because I would like to hear a few explanations about why you and your brother stole seven of the best years out of my life," he fired back. The words shot across the room like bullets with strong emotion propelling them. Goten stood with his hand inside his pockets, challenging, daring her to explain it away. "Not only stole those years, but ruined my reputation and tainted the rest of my life."

She'd known this was going to be hard. She had expected no less, but somehow now, with those black calculating eyes boring into her and his face set into a harsh mask, whatever she had to say seemed laughable. There was no simple explanations. But there were reasons and circumstances.

"I'm not trying to make excuses," she murmured softly. "No one can ever make up to you for what happened. What was done was entirely wrong. All I can do is to try to explain the circumstances that led up to it."

His features seemed to set in stone, but he allowed her to continue.

Her words seemed hopelessly inadequate, but she forced her to go on. "To give you some insight into why my brother…and I…did what we did."

"I'm all ears. I always wanted to know why people lie and ruin other people's lives to save their own asses. Come on out with it." His ebony eyes stung hers with cruel mockery.

She started to speak, but her voice faltered. The words seemed to stick in her throat. She loved him, and the expression on his face was so implacable and contemptuous that she knew in that instant whatever feeling she had hoped he still had for her was gone, lost forever. It was this painful realization that made her stumble over her words, indeed, made it difficult to get the words out at all. If anything, the features of his handsome face grew more cynical at her halting attempts at speech.

"Don't stop now, Bulla. We both know how good you are at giving performances. Not just good, totally convincing, in fact," he purred with smooth menace. "You had me completely fooled until I saw that brother of yours in the car next to you. And, of course, there was a jury of twelve people that you won over. Let's not forget that."

She paled at his words.

"Let's see if you can do it again," he added with a quiet challenge.

Fighting for control, she started again. "It was my stepfather, Yamcha. We were both terrified of him," she blurted out raggedly. "The whole household revolved around his moods. We tiptoed around him, groveled around him, were careful not to even move or breathe when he was in one of his violent moods. It went on for years. And eventually, it took its toll on both our personalities. But in completely different ways. It made Trunks wild and restless, and he did crazy things. He went running around with a fast crowd, going out with all sorts of girls. Going to wild parties—driving too fast," she added pointedly. "But it had a completely different effect on me. It made me withdraw." She gazed at Goten steadily.

"It also made you into a damned good liar," he said shapely. "Let's not forget that. Kami, you had me fooled." He pulled out a cigarette from a box on the table and lit it with a silver lighter. He studied her through the smoke with indifferent eyes and waited for whatever was coming next.

"I was_ terrified _of him and his moods. You must believe that. If we didn't do what he wanted, he went wild, and he was capable of anything." Her voice was low and the words faded. "One day he…he tried…tried to, to rape me." in torment, she looked up at Goten's face, a rigid impassive mask that gave nothing away. She forced herself to continue. "Trunks burst into the house and saved me. We both knew Yamcha would try again." She couldn't meet Goten's eyes. He was the first person she'd ever told. Fear and humiliation swept her.

"When Trunks crashed the car and hit that old man, he knew instantly that he would have to go to prison. He also knew that if he went to prison, it would mean leaving me alone with Yamcha. I was a minor," she whispered desperately. "I had nowhere to go. Trunks panicked when he realized that not only would he have to face going to prison but he would have to leave me to _him_. Yamcha would have used me Goten, abused me physically and mentally. So Trunks got you behind the wheel of that car. When the police came and you were still out, he told them you'd been driving. He made me promise to lie to cover up. He filled me with terror. He said that if he wasn't around, if _he_ went to jail and not you, that I would become Yamcha's sexual toy. I knew he wasn't lying. I knew it was true," Bulla gasped. "I knew Yamcha was capable of anything." Her trembling voice indicated the depth of emotion she felt when she thought of her stepfather, even after all this time. "I was only sixteen," she added. "I couldn't face that. I was nearly rigid with fear, and I couldn't think straight." She lowered her head and tried to force back the tears that the memory brought on. She blinked rapidly before she resumed.

All was silent. You could hear a pin drop in the heavy silence, Bulla thought. Goten's eyes were still cold and hostile, but he was listening with rapt attention. She hurried on.

"I can never make up to you for what happened. I wish I could. But sometimes if people know why somebody did something awful to them, it makes it easier to bear, maybe, even in time, enables them to forgive." The look in his eyes didn't waver or give away anything of what he was thinking.

"I never wanted to fall in love with you," she went on softly. "The last thing I ever wanted was for something to happen between us. I never wanted to go out with you. I never wanted you to even notice me. That was way I avoided you or disappeared every time you came near. But it was mistake. All it did was achieve the opposite effect. You became interested or offended or both. You reproached me, and when you did, I had such an awful conscious about what I had done, about how I made you feel like an outcast from society, that when you more or less challenged me to go out with you, to prove to you that it wasn't the stigma of your background that was driving me away, I had to prove it to you. And that was all I intended to do, to prove to you that I wasn't advoiding you for that reason. I felt I owed you a great deal and that that was the least I could do. So I went out with you, I never dreamed that what happened would happen. I found myself strongly attracted to you, more strongly attracted than to any man I had ever met. And I seemed to have less and less control over my feelings. I tried to avoid you again because I could see what was happening, but you came after me, and from then on I didn't seem to have much say in the matter. You took over, and I found myself falling in love with you."

He had been silent the whole time, listening to her without interrupting, without a flicker of emotion in his eyes. He turned calmly and crushed the cigarette out on the nearest ashtray, then looked at her steadily. There was a wry twist to his mouth

"That was very good, Bulla. It really was. You're a very convincing actress. In fact, I think you missed your calling. You should be on the stage," he murmured with a soft menace, and strode forward. "And you know what else? You're beautiful, too, and that adds to it," he said with a rough tremor in his voice. "That's what makes you all the more dangerous. That's what makes that tortured look in those gorgeous blue eyes all the more convincing somehow," he added as he stood towering over her for a long moment before he went on.

"Do you know why you haven't heard from me? Why I never demanded an explanation when you told me you were Trunks' sister? It was because I didn't trust myself. I was afraid of what I might do." His hands tighten on her arms so hard that winced slightly.

"I was afraid that I might strangle the life out of you. I thought I might do almost anything. I had to stay away from you just to calm down and think. And I have been thinking, Bulla."

She stood silently fighting back the tears induced by his words, gazing unwaveringly back at him as she realized that her confession had had little effect, if any."

"Do you have any idea of what it's like to be locked up, to have your freedom taken away?" he demanded, as his lips disappeared into his mouth.

She shook her head, unable to speak.

"No. You don't. No one does who has never experienced the unspeakable horror of it. You can't even imagine what it's like. You can't begin to realize or appreciate the endless hours ticking away. You can't imagine what it's like. You can't imagine the kinds of people there are inside those places, nor can you begin to imagine the sheer hell of knowing you're paying a price for something you didn't even commit. And that's only the half of it." His hands tightened, and he shook her slightly to emphasize his words. "When you come out, there's the trick of trying to fit back into the world. Have you any idea of what that's like?!"

She shook her head again as tears began to roll down her face.

"No, you don't," he said softly. "You can't even begin to imagine what that's like or what it's like to be treated like a leper by people who formerly liked and respected you, who turn their backs on you and pretend they didn't even see you. Fuck your brother!" he said hoarsely between gritted teeth. "I hope he rots in hell! He was the main cause of it all. I hate him, pure and simple, no problem there." He paused. "But you. You're another story altogether." His face grew dark with the havoc warring inside him.

"You stir up all kinds of mixed emotions inside me that I can't sort out. And it's slowly driving me crazy trying to do it. I fell in love with you," he whispered huskily, "hook, line and sinker. And I made love to you. It was something I can't forget. I remember what it was like to have you in my arms, to feel you underneath me, to be inside you."

Bulla began to tremble at his words and the raw desire that stirred inside both of them.

"What's more, I want to be there again," he murmured. "I want you right now, right here, right this minute. And I hate myself for wanting you." he ground the words. "Because, at the same time, I keep remembering what your damned brother and you did to me, and I haven't been able to forgive you for that. It's driving me crazy, feeling this way." He shook her again, then let her go and walked away to the other side of the room.

She stood staring after him.

"I'm sorry," Bulla whispered brokenly. "Kami, Goten I'm so, so sorry." The words sounded inane, they were so inadequate, but there was little else she could think of to say.

"That doesn't do me much good." He laughed scornfully, giving her the full impact if his stormy, black eyes. "You have to do better then come up with an 'I'm sorry.'"

"I wish there was a way I could make it up to you."

"There is a way, Bulla. Believe me there is." His black eyes flicked over her insolently.

"You can marry me."

Bulla eyes widened, and she and Goten stared silently at each other for several long moments. Bulla couldn't answer at first, she was so stunned by his words. Then a protest exploded from her.

"You're crazy! You can't mean it! That wouldn't be a marriage, it would be a sham, a parody of a marriage and all that marriage should stand for."

"Do you want to make it up to me?" he asked, his face stony. "You said you wished there was a way you could make it up to me. I'm giving you one, and it's not as crazy as it first sounds. Think about it for a minute or two," he drawled. "You're the perfect wife for me, Bulla," he went on, his voice laced with wry innuendo. "I have nothing to hide from you. You know all about me. We get along well together. And because I'm one of the world's biggest idiots," he added with sarcastic derision aimed at himself, "I still want you like hell, baby. Let me be clear. I hate you for what you did, and I'd like to make you pay, but that doesn't stop me from wanting you."

He walked slowly towards her. She did want to make it up to him, but the far stronger emotion inside her was that she loved him. At the same time, she wondered how life would be married to him when a part of him despised her. But as her eyes slid over the familiar features of his handsome face. Looking into his ebony eyes that locked with hers, she knew she wanted him in spite of everything. And as he put his hands on her again, desire surged up inside her, just as potently as it had always done.

"I paid a debt to society that I never owned," he murmured huskily as he bent his head and brushed the side of her face with his lips. The words trickled into her ear. "And now you have a debt to pay to me." His hands slid into her hair, around the back of her neck, and he pulled her to him roughly and lowered his head to kiss her. His stormy, black eyes probed hers before his warm mobile mouth covered hers. A muffled protest stayed locked in her throat as he took what he wanted, kissing her with almost bruising intensity as his hands left her hair and moved down her back, then along her hips, pressing her into him with hot, hungry, yet angry need. He grabbed a handful of her skirt and slid his hand underneath and cupped her rounded bottom in a crude display of possession.

Bulla started to struggle in protest, but his hands instantly tightened their grip, grinding her into him until a powerful surge of desire eddied deep inside her and her mouth parted underneath his. He felt her response instantly, and his kisses, though still insistent and demanding, eased and the old magic began to rush between them, surging like a breaker rising in the surf, firing them both with its instant hot need. Soon her hands wrapped around his neck, and her body arched into his as she kissed him back with wild abandon. Then abruptly he removed her arms from around his neck and held her away from him. His narrowed gaze bore into her. The ragged edge of his breathing testified to his grudging but swift arousal.

"It's pretty obvious that I still want you. I but I also want an answer, and I want it now. No more delays."

She still loved him, nothing had changed that. Not this hard veneer that covered his feelings nor this deep anger she felt emanating from him in an almost palpable force. Not only did she still love him, but she still wanted him and couldn't imagine surviving in the arid desert life would become without him. She wanted him under any conditions, under whatever terms he dictated.

"Yes. I'll marry you," she said breathlessly.

Something seemed to relax inside him, but it was soon hidden, and the hard shell and closed taut expression in face remained.

"We'll get married as soon as possible. It's settled."

There was finality to his words, she noted. There was no backing out now.

**Holy s***! If Vegeta were here he'd kill Goten for making Bra cry LOLz**


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The wedding was held in a small chapel of a much larger church. Bulla wore her mother's wedding dress, the one her mother had married her father in. It was a white silk strapless creation that was fitted at the top showing off every curve, and flowed like layered rose peddles at the skirt, and matching white long silk gloves. Her hair was styled into a French braid with little white flowers in it and her veil crowned at the top. She was a vision of beauty, the perfect little bride. Valese was her maiden of honor, and Gohan was best man for Goten. The chapel was crammed. Mr. Phoenix and his wife were there, Videl, Pan, and Kmil were sitting in front reserved for family, and rest of the seats were filled with people from Lilac's. The announcement of the wedding had been a popular one with the other employees. Afterwards, there was a small reception and dinner held at a fancy Thai restaurant. A lively band accompanied the wedding dinner, playing a soft medley of music.

The bride and groom were toasted. Bulla gazed up at her husband, who was dressed in a black tux with a pearl-grey waistcoat, crisp white shirt and black silk tie. His dark hair in its usual style, his black eyes flinty, the light tan of his skin contrasting strikingly against the dark material of his tux. He was the rare mixture tough manliness and smooth edges, and Bulla's admiring gaze slid over him from time to time as she chatted amiably with wedding guests. She wondered if they noticed the impenetrable look in his dark eyes, the manufactured smile he put on during the wedding dinner. If anyone did, it wasn't mentioned. There were only wistful straying glances of admiration from women and the occasional good-natured banter from the men aimed in Goten's direction.

Bulla wondered if she would ever again see the warmth and sunny glint that she missed in his eyes. Ever since she'd said she would marry him, he seemed to have put on emotional armor, as if he had to protect himself from allowing her to get too close. Nothing she could do or say had any effect.

As a bride and groom, Bulla and Goten were exceedingly attractive. When he asked her to dance and she rose and smiled, there was a spontaneous burst of applause.

"We're expected to lead off the dancing," he explained, giving her one of his public smiles.

She realized it was not something he was doing to celebrate their marriage, but that he was simply going through the motions, doing what was expected of them. She took his hand, and he swept her onto the small dance floor. Everybody was watching.

He smiled down at her, and they appeared to be a blissfully happy couple. Only Bulla could see the look in his eyes, the hard, unforgiving flare when his gaze flickered over her. The band broke into a romantic melody and they danced around the floor.

"Smile," he said. "You look like you're scheduled for the guillotine."

"What's do I have to smile about?" she murmured. "_You_ look as though you want to eat me alive."

"Part of me does. The other part of me wants something quite different."

She flushed, and the color creeping up her bare shoulders and neck and finally her face made the corners of his mouth pull into the nearest thing to a genuine smile she had seen all day.

"You really are an excellent actress. How you can blush, Bulla, beats me." He grinned with sardonic derision and whirled her around.

She smiled back at him fixedly, for the benefit of those watching, but there was a wounded glint in her eyes, as a sense of despair grew inside her.

At last the wedding dinner ended and the guests and the bride and groom made for the parked cars. Confetti and rice were hurled in a shower as the couple made their way to Goten's car, which was decorated with ribbons and tin cans. Bulla was attacked in farewell hugs from her new nieces. "So could we come over and visit when you and Uncle Goten are done with your honeymoon, Auntie Bulla?" Kmil asked when Bulla had picked her up and gave her a hug.

"I'm not sure sweetheart, you'll have to ask your uncle Goten about that," Bulla told her and put her down.

"Newlyweds need time to be alone sweetie," Videl told her youngest daughter before giving Bulla a hug. "Have a wonderful time on your honeymoon, Bulla."

"Thank you, Videl."

After Pan hugged Goten she went over Bulla and gave the woman a mischievous smile, "Well, Aunt Bulla, I hope you and Uncle Goten have a nice honeymoon," she said giggling when she saw the blush tinting Bulla's cheeks and gave her a hug goodbye.

Gohan was the next to give Bulla a hug and smiled, "Welcome to the family, Bulla. You and Goten have a wonderful honeymoon and I hope you two will come to visit soon."

Bulla gave him a smile, feeling a sure of happiness at being welcomed into the Son family. "Thank you, Gohan. We'll visit as soon as we get settled."

Goten and Bulla climbed into the car once they said their goodbyes to his family, or rather _their_ family now. Bulla gave Valese kiss on cheek, thanked her and then waved goodbye to Mr. Phoenix and his wife. She tossed her bouquet of white lilies to Valese, who caught it with a shout of delight.

Loud cries of farewell and a few humorous remarks from some of the men followed them as they drove away. Bulla leaned back with a sigh of relief, brushing off confetti and rice from her arms and neck and skirt of her dress, glad that it was over, forgetting for a moment the grim man sitting next to her.

She looked over at her husband and then down at the ring on her finger. She was married. The total realization of what she had done was finally making itself felt.

Goten must have sensed her sudden dismay because his head turned and there was a wry twist to his mouth.

"It's too late to change your mind, Mrs. Son. You can't lie your way out of this one."

The remark stung her as did all his quiet little insults, and she turned away to look out the window hoping that this need to strike back at her would diminish as soon as they were settled into married life. She told herself fervently that it would be so and clung to it as a drowning man clings to a raft in a turbulent sea. Silence hung heavily between them. Bulla couldn't think of anything to say; he had killed stone dead the desire to make conversation.

"Do you have everything you need?" he finally asked.

"Yes," she murmured, thinking she had everything but his love.

"We can stop by your apartment tomorrow and pick up the rest of your things."

"Fine," she murmured coolly, still not looking at him. She sensed a surge of sudden irritation in him, but he said nothing and drove swiftly through the streets until they reached his condo, where he helped her out of the car so that she wouldn't trip on the hems of her wedding gown. He walked ahead and unlocked the door. Then without warning he suddenly swept her up in his arms and carried her across the threshold. She was so stunned that all she could do was gasp.

"It's bad luck not to carry the bride over the threshold," he said, as if that had been the only reason for the sentimental and romantic act. His gaze locked with hers as he moved through the doorway with her in his arms. Once inside, he put her down and immediately began to loosen his tie impatiently.

"I'm going to get out of these clothes." With a suitcase in each hand, he strode up the stairs that led to the bedroom level of the condo. Bulla lifted the long skirt of the bridal gown and followed.

"Do you want to fly down to the South City marina or go somewhere else?" he called over his shoulder. They had not come up with anything definite in the way of plans. They had only a few days before they had to return to work.

"Let's go back to the marina," she said. "We enjoyed ourselves there so much last time."

"Alright," he agreed, his face still an expressionless mask as he led the way into the master bedroom and put down their suitcases. He started unfastening the stiff collar of his shirt and soon unloosened his tie, tore it from around his neck and flung it onto a nearby chair, along with his jacket. He stood gazing steadily at her as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and then his shirt.

In the hectic rush before the wedding, they had spent little time together. What time there was had been used to discuss the arrangements for the wedding. Goten had kept his physical needs simmering on a back burner. Now there was no need for restraint. Bulla heard him moving up behind her to help her with the long zipper down the back of her bridal gown. She felt unaccountably nervous. She had not experienced any edginess with him the first time they had made love, but her feelings had been different then, as had his whole attitude.

"I'll just get out of these things and into something…are we going to fly down tonight?" she asked turning around.

"I think it's a bit late for that, don't you," he noted, a gleam beginning to dance in his eyes. He stripped off his shirt, his eyes sliding languorously over her.

She gazed back at him for a brief moment as heat began coursing through her veins. "I'll just get out of this," she murmured, and began to take the silky gown off, peeling it from her breasts and then stepping out of it and laying it neatly across the chair. She heard him move closer to her. She held her breath as he stood barely an inch behind her. She didn't dare breathe, she didn't dare speak, and then he reached out and pulled her back against the toned hard length of him. And began kissing her, his mouth closing over hers, his hands caressing her.

"Do you want to get into the bathroom first, or shall I?" She panicked and pulled away from him. Suddenly embarrassed, she excused herself, not wanting to undress in front of him any further. With a cold, enigmatic stare, he retreated.

Inside the bathroom, Bulla stripped off the long flounced slip that was worn underneath the gown. Panties and bra quickly followed before she stepped inside the cubicle. When she came out, she pulled on a robe that hung on the door and began to brush her long hair in long, soothing strokes, trying to ease the tension that was building inside her. What was wrong with her? This was the man she loved; nothing had changed that. Why was she acting like a nervous virgin? She surveyed her face in the bevel-edged mirror, an apprehensive look in her eyes. It was Goten. He was so different from the man who had made love to her on the yacht. He was distant, a man hiding his very soul from her, a man with protective armor surrounding him, a man capable of discharging stinging darts whenever she came too close.

Aqua-blue waves released from the braided hairstyle and cascaded around her face. She brushed her teeth and stalled for time, not wanting to go out into the bedroom, suddenly afraid of the cold glint in Goten's eyes, afraid of what lay behind it and what it would mean when she was in his arms. He wouldn't make love with the warm passion she had known with the smiling Goten of before. She removed her makeup, cleansed her skin and then brushed her hair again.

Suddenly the door sprang open. Bulla's gaze locked with Goten's in the mirror.

"I was just finishing," she murmured.

He lounged in the doorway, his naked torso drawing her eyes like a magnet. He was barefooted and wore only his tux pants. His powerful masculinity held a sensual impact.

"You wouldn't be hiding from me, Bulla, would you?" he challenged.

"No," she said, with a surge of defiance. "I was just finishing. I was coming out to get a nightgown."

"I don't think you'll need it," he asserted, his dark eyes mystifying.

His words caused a heat rush to surge through her. She shuddered and started to brush past him quickly. "I always sleep in a nightgown," she retorted.

"Not in my bed."

"It's not…" Bulla began softly. But her words were halted as his hand pulled her through the doorway and into the bedroom as if she were a shy schoolgirl.

Once inside the room, lit only by a table lamp, he pressed her towards him. He untied the sash of her robe so that it fell open. His arms slid inside and around her back, pulling her up against the toned, hard wall if his bare torso. She gasped, and his head bent, and his mouth covered hers in a hungry, demanding kiss, a punishing kiss that bruised and chastened and demanded and excited. For a brief moment, she went rigid, pushing against him. Her reaction only made him more determined and his kisses more insistent.

Goten groaned softly in Bulla's ear, and the sensual magic of his masculinity began to penetrate her entire being. Then her stiffness melted as he began to kiss her with that rhythmic, demanding need that set her blood on fire. His hands slid over the smooth skin of her back and hips, grasping her to him as the repressed need of the weeks leading up to the wedding made itself felt and surged between them. Her arms soon locked around his neck, and her body bowed to his. Their legs intertwined as they moved restlessly to get nearer to each other, to defy the limitations of their own bodies.

Goten broke off the succession of kissing and pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowed with aroused desire. "Let me look at you," Goten said in that low-pitched, rusty voice that signaled his aroused state. He slid the robe from her shoulders.

Bulla closed her eyes briefly and then opened them, watching his gaze scorched her skin with its fiery trail. With trembling hands he drew her to him, and they rolled onto the bed, his mouth finding hers instantly Bulla responded, letting the desire intoxicate her like a drug, before he broke off the kiss.

There were no words between them, she noted dimly as she felt the rush of desire overtaking her. No incoherent words were whispered this time while passion built. Caught up in the whirlwind of his need and hers, Bulla realized vaguely, there was excitement, but there was no tenderness. But her need for him was so great that it didn't matter, and all else faded as his knee nudged her thighs apart and his head lowered to tease one sensitive nipple, filling her with an empty ache to have him deep inside her.

He thrust into her gently, then a fiery hunger, and Bulla felt that black chasm of sensation opening up and swallowing her as desire overwhelmed them and drove them to a rising crescendo of pleasure. Goten's body drove into hers with a seemingly insatiable hunger, as if the very feel of her were driving him crazy. The spiraling pleasure spun out of control. As they reached that final peak, Goten's choked responses seemed torn from him, and Bulla gasped at the final surge of exquisite sensation, clenching his broad-muscled shoulders. Then they lay back, gasping from the stunning, indescribable satisfaction, floating down into a valley of sublime peace.

Bulla felt Goten's hands clasp and unclasp as he buried his face in the side of her neck. His harsh breathing filled her ears, testifying to the pitch of excitement his body and mind had reached. She was stunned once again by the response he triggered from her, feeling as though she had just come once again out of a dark, churning place of sensation. Silent minutes ticked away, punctuated only by the subsidence of their breathing. Bulla waited for some murmur of endearment, a tender kiss, even a gentle whisper of her name. But Goten simply rolled away.

A few minutes later, she heard him get up and go into the shower. With a sense of overwhelming defeat, she realized that he was determined to keep warm emotions out of their marriage altogether. She was here simply to satisfy his physical needs. Whatever tender feelings he had were locked away, buried deep inside him. His physical needs were going to be satisfied, and hers, but he was withholding all other emotions. She blinked rapidly as tears stung the backs of her eyes.

She heard the shower pelting the tiles and running down the drain. Slowly she slid from the side of the bed and looked at the clock. From her suitcase, she pulled the baby blue lace-and-satin nightgown she hadn't had time to put on. She let it slither over her head, and then she picked up her bathrobe and fastened the sash around her waist. She walked over to his dresser and picked up a hairbrush and began to run it through her softly waving mane of hair. Her eyes glistened, their expression softened by the ravages of their lovemaking, her lips slightly rosy from his demanding kisses. When she heard the bathroom door open, she whirled around. His dark eyes slid over her hungrily, the banked fire still kindling.

"Would you like a snack? Did you have enough to eat at the reception?" she asked. It was quite a few hours since the wedding dinner.

"I'm not hungry," he said, advancing towards her. As he drew near, his hands began undoing the sash of her robe. She moved to knock his hands away.

"What's the matter?" He laughed softly and enveloped her against his well-built length.

"You know what's wrong," she cried softly. "This isn't the way it was before."

"Things are not the same as they were before. Damn it. You know that, and I know that," he reminded her coldly. "I told you how I felt before we got married." She pushed with her hands against his bare shoulders. He had only a towel wrapped around him.

"You know you want me. Just as much as I want you," he said, nuzzling her ear.

"No," she started to protest, but his head ducked and his mouth caught her. His hands parted her robe and slid inside. Bulla felt herself engulfed once again in a dark chasm of desire with the bottom falling dizzily away.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

They flew down to South City and cruised on the same yacht that they had been on together before. Bulla's heart swelled with happiness when they reached it, as she remembered the glorious two days they had spent on it. By midafternoon they had dropped anchor near the reef where they had gone snorkeling before.

Bulla had changed into her swimsuit and twisted her hair into a nice bun on top of her head. She stretched in the saturating blaze of the sun, longing to get into the aquamarine water for a swim after the hours of traveling. The horizon was cloudless, and the endless waters and sky that surrounded them were soaked in the brightness of the sun. She looked down at her bare feet and tapering milky legs and thought how wonderful it was to be back. Then she glanced pensively at the gold band on her finger.

She saw Goten lope towards the cockpit, his broad-shouldered muscularity outlined by the endless sea and sky around him. Bulla's face flushed when she remembered his hands on her body, and she turned away and removed her wedding ring, thinking it might somehow slip off and be lost in the water. She wondered, as she picked up her mask and flippers, how long Goten was going to maintain this cool distance. Being with him was like being with a distant, polite stranger. The only time he discarded this attitude was in bed. Then a fiery need of passion consumed them both. Surely in time…

"Come on, are you ready?" he asked. She heard the splash of the dinghy in the water and moved to the swimming ladder and descended with her mask and flippers in her hand. They rowed to the reef and left the boat bobbing in the surface as they plunged into the clear water.

The time sped by. They went around South City one morning and then cruised around the marina surrounding it, anchoring when it suited them. They swam and explored the reefs and, afterwards, sprawled on the decks exhausted, dozing briefly in the tiny pools of water streaming off their bodies. In the late afternoon they went below, put on some music on the i-home and prepared some dinner. Goten moved around the galley fixing cool drinks, one wine for him and the other fruit juice for her. Bulla prepared salad, fish and sliced rolls, thinking all the time that they were in an ideal setting, romantic and isolated from the humdrum world of everyday life. It should have been heaven, but it was just a parody of a honeymoon, since the main ingredient—namely, love—seemed to be missing. Bulla swallowed hard trying to suppress the empty ache that the thought produced inside her.

The hours trickled away one by one, and neither the sunshine nor sparkling tropical waters had any effect on Goten's disposition. He held himself away, self-contained, aloof, and apart. He constantly seemed to be around but never close. Bulla began to seethe silently at this infuriating treatment, and by the second day she threw her mask on the teak deck and turned to confront him.

"I hope we will be going back today," she announced as she pulled the tie out of her hair so that it cascaded to her waist.

With a sardonic twist of his mouth, Goten turned to look at her. "What's the matter, Bulla?"

"Why stay any longer?" she muttered. "This is a disaster. You've been determined to wreck it."

"If that's how you feel, let's go," he replied with an impassive expression on his face.

His indifference and ready acceptance to concede that the honeymoon was a disaster were even more irritating than the way he'd been behaving. She stalked from the deck and went below to the master bunk, stripped off her wet bikini, put on shorts and a T-shirt and pushed her feet into sandals.

She heard him enter the bunk and whirled around. "Why didn't you just tell me? You didn't want to come away. We could have stayed at the condo," she cried softly. "Instead of coming on this…this fiasco." There were tears of anger in her eyes. But she saw the corners of his mouth curl with a kind of grim satisfaction.

"I've done no such thing," he grounded out. "If anyone's ruined anything, if we want to place the blame for this _fiasco, _we could lay it at your door, not mine. Besides, it hasn't been a complete fiasco. There's been one thing about it that's been good," he said huskily. "And we both know what that is. Nothing seems to dampen our desire for each other, not lies or deceptions or prison records or ruined chances."

Bulla looked down at her hands, defeated.

Later that afternoon they finished their packing, and Goten went back up on deck to bring up the anchor so they could begin making their way back towards the harbor.

The flight home was quiet, barely a word was spoken between them, and when they reached the condo, the atmosphere remained the same. Bulla reflected that she been foolish to have hoped that things would have ironed themselves out by the end if their trip. It was obviously going to take a lot longer than that. She sighed and ran a distracted hand through her hair and told herself to hang on. He would lose his negative feelings in time; she simply had to be more patient. Living together, sharing the ups and downs of everyday life would bring them together, she convinced herself. The love that he had shown her before, surely it was still there; it was simply inaccessible for the time being. The physical need that he had for her meant something. It wasn't just lust. If that had been the case, he could have satisfied a purely physical need with almost anyone without going to the trouble of getting himself entangled in a marriage. Goten had married _her_, and that counted for something. Bulla clung to these remnants of hope and told herself that, in time, things would be different, he would gradually let down those barriers he had built around himself. She was sure of it. One didn't have to be an expert on love to know one thing—that love is one of the strongest emotions there is. Stronger than anything else, in fact—a ruling passion. And in time it would win out over those others holding sway at the moment. The thought brightened her mood, and she walked around the condo with a lighter step.

On Monday they returned to Lilac's. Bulla was glad to have the day filled once again with her work and for Goten to be absorbed by his. It left less time for her to contemplate their present state of affairs, to brood about what was missing from their lives. In the evening she came home and prepared dinner, thinking it would be their first real meal together in their home.

Goten walked in and went straight into the shower. Bulla kept the casserole warm in the oven. When she stepped out into the hall to ask Goten if he'd want any dessert, to her dismay she saw him striding out the door. Frantically she ran after him.

"Where are you going?" she cried into the heavy summer night.

"Out," his voice returned with a lazy flatness, and he got into his car and slammed the door.

Bulla released a small wounded gasp, and a defeated look eddied into her eyes as she watched him drive away. She walked back to the kitchen and stared at the dinner. Finally she filled a plate with some of the hot, bubbling casserole, pulled a tossed green salad from the refrigerator and sat down and began to eat the food she had so carefully prepared, feeling as though Goten was punishing her. What could she expect? After what she'd done to him, did she really think a nicely cooked dinner, a few kind deeds were going to put it right? She almost laughed at her naiveté. It was glaringly clear that this was going to be a long, hard haul, and that Goten was calling all the shots.

She dropped her fork onto her plate. The sound shattered the silence of the kitchen and jarred her nerves as silent tears trickled down her face. She crossed the kitchen to get a glass of milk and stood drinking it pensively, wondering where on earth Goten had gone. She really didn't want to think about where he was, she suddenly realized uncomfortable.

After cleaning the kitchen, she read for a while, then, feeling drowsy, she went upstairs to bed. She didn't hear Goten when he came home.

In the morning at breakfast, she watched Goten over the rim of her coffee cup as he read the paper. He had not so much as a reference to the previous night, she didn't ask where he'd been, and he didn't tell her. He looked clean and refreshed, she thought. One would never guess he had been out half the night. Though she didn't know the exact time he'd come in, she speculated that it must have been about midnight and not in the early hours of the morning. No one could look so disgustingly refreshed after staying out all night. She put down her cup, wishing she hadn't fallen into such a deep sleep.

At the sound, he looked up. His black eyes challenged her, daring her to guess, daring her to ask where he had been, but knowing that was what he wanted her to do she would not give him that satisfaction and lowered her gaze.

Goten folded the newspaper and put it down, then rose, unwinding his muscular length from the chair, and glanced down at Bulla. She knew her expression was accusing.

"I told you how I felt," he said evenly. "Nothing's changed, as far as I'm concerned." He seemed to be implying that if she felt something more for him, it was her tough luck.

Something hardened inside Bulla. The hope that he would come around was beginning to shine less brightly. The cold, expressionless look in his black eyes threatened to snuff it out completely. She rose to take their breakfast things to the counter.

"You can drive with me," he announced. "There's no need use two cars."

"I'll drive myself."

"Suit yourself."

His indifference cut her to the quick. It was worse than contempt or hatred because it was nothing, and she had been sure there was something.

He turned and left without a word.

The days and weeks that followed slid one into another, almost indistinguishable from one another. After several weeks had passed, the hope that Bulla had nurtured began to flicker as if it were going to eventually die out completely. She tried to fan it, to keep it alive and not let anything diminish it further. She continually reminded herself that it would take time, and she tried not to let his coldhearted indifference chip away at the love she felt for him. And she tried everything else could think of, from tempting his appetite with well-thought-out meals, to drawing him out with lighthearted conversation about people they knew, to finding out things that interested him.

But each attempt was a dismal failure. He continually shut her out, held her away and disappeared without warning when the mood struck him. Bulla begin to feel that she was waging a losing battle. Facing rejection after rejection, when all her attempts to close the gap between them had failed, she finally stopped trying. Hope died, and cold resolve took its place. It was a matter of self-preservation, she told herself, to protect her own now bruised and batter feelings.

But all the time this was happening, his desire for her and hers for him did not diminish. Often in the dead of night she would sense him climb into the bed after he had been out, leaving yet another dinner to get ruined. In spite of how she felt, as soon as he pressed her into the furnace of his body and his hungry mouth slid down the curve of her neck, she would respond instantly. Her arms would lock around his neck, and her hands would sink into his thick, black hair, and he would pull her into him with a hungry, almost angry need. They would be lost in each other, dying in that world of iridescent sensation. Then it would be over, and he would turn away, retreating once again into the tough shell that had hardened around him.

Bulla awoke one morning to feel the warm sun razes on her skin, and a sick, nauseous feeling in her stomach. She shot up quickly and ran for the bathroom, bending at the toilet, and throwing up within seconds. After the spell had passed, she rushed back into the bedroom, pulled the calendar off the wall and started hurriedly counting off the days. A searing sense of pleasure and astonishment shot through her when she realized that, in all probability, she was pregnant.

She slumped against the wall, holding the calendar out in front of her, still staring at the dates as her brain struggled to absorb what had happened. She did some calculations and realized that she might have gotten pregnant when they had first made love on the yacht. The discovery filled her with a sense of soaring happiness. Goten had cared for her then. He hadn't yet discovered that Trunks was her brother. There were no undercurrents between them, and he had made love to her holding nothing back. Perhaps their baby had been conceived then, when he loved her, not simply desired her.

Why hadn't she realized sooner? It was all the excitement, she thought. First Trunks turning up. Then the confrontation with Goten. Then the hastily arranged wedding. She had put her lateness down to nervous tension.

She closed her eyes, blissfully hugging the idea to herself. It filled her with a glowing sensation, and she drifted with the knowledge wrapped around her. It was the first warm and utterly content, peaceful moment she had felt since Goten had come back into her life.

Then slowly the warm glow began to recede as Bulla wondered what Goten would say. Would he be pleased? The question made her feel uneasy. It was difficult to know how he would react to anything now, after what had happened. What feelings he did have he never revealed to her anyway.

She moved away from the wall and decided that it might be best to wait for the right moment. Surely it would come. A tender moment when that distant closed expression melted away for a moment and she would see the old Goten again, the one who allowed her to know his feelings. She hoped that Goten would be just as pleased and overjoyed as she.

Bulla could hear him moving around downstairs. She slipped into a bathrobe and began the morning routine, filled with a sense of inner happiness, forgetting the delicate state of her stomach.

At work later that day, Valese came over for one of her daily chats.

"How are the newlyweds?" she ventured with her shrewd chocolate brown eyes focused on Bulla's expression. "You look a bit bemused. You haven't had your first quarrel, have you?"

Bulla suppressed a bubble of hysterical laugher. If Valese only knew. First quarrel! They had been in a constant state of cold warfare from the moment Goten had slipped the ring on her finger. But she couldn't tell Valese that.

"Oh, I'm just a little bored," she said, quickly inventing an excuse. "We need to go out or away for the weekend. I was just thinking of where we might go. We really should do something special, since we stayed in all last weekend."

"I've got just the thing," Valese announced, beaming at Bulla. "They're having a ritzy evening at the country club. We're members, you know. Both my parents have been members for years. They're both golf fanatics," she explained, rolling eyes expressively. "If you and Goten would like to come along, we would be delighted to have you as our guests." She tried to coax a smile from Bulla. Seeing that she was making headway, Valese went on eagerly. "The country club dances are always fun, and everybody of all ages comes to them. We've finally talked the steering committee into letting us have some of the latest music. What they used to have was unspeakable and suited only to people with one foot in the grave."

"Thanks, it sounds like fun," Bulla said. "We need a night out." They needed a lot more than that, Bulla thought wistfully, but maybe this would help to get them on the right track. Meeting new people, relaxing, enjoying themselves, it certainly couldn't do any harm.

"By the way." Valese leaned forward, grinning. "How has he been on holding up his end of the conversation? Is he still into monosyllables, or is he lashing out into sentences?"

Bulla struggled to hide a look of embarrassment. How could she tell Valese she was lucky if he said "Pass the sugar." And in the evening it varied to "Pass the potatoes." And occasionally it was "Where are my black socks?" Goten had honed conversation down to a few sentences a day. He was determined to keep his feelings locked away, and anything in the way of conversation other than the purely necessary he shunned adroitly. In the nights there was only the unspoken, fiery physical need when no words were necessary at all to express what he wanted from her.

"He talks freely when something isn't bothering him," Bulla said. She spoke the absolute truth, she realized. Something was always bothering him, and it happened to be her. She then hastily changed the topic of conversation. "How's your brother and sister-in-law's baby doing?"

Valese held up her hand dramatically. "He's growing by leaps and bounds and howls whenever he doesn't get his way. He rules the household. I'll show you the latest pics at lunch. Don't forget about the dance on Saturday night. It's dressy, by the way," she added.

"I'll ask Goten, but I'm sure he'll say yes." Bulla wasn't sure at all. Yet she went back to her work with a smile still curving her lips. It was something to look forward to.

That evening she let herself into the condo in a positive frame of mind. She changed into an old faded pair of jeans and old rock T-shirt and began preparing dinner. She lifted her head when she sense Goten standing in the doorway watching her intently. She smiled at him, but the smiled faded instantly at the leaden stare of cool indifference that greeted her.

"Guess what?" she said brightly.

"What?"

He spoke warily, but amiably enough, she thought. That was a good sign. His gaze slipped over her long-legged figure outlined in jeans. Her blood heated up instantly under his slow perusal. He still had the same powerful effect on her senses, no matter how aloof he kept himself and no matter what he did. The thought brought an embarrassing flush to her face.

"Valese had invited us to join her and her family at the country club this Saturday. They're having a formal dinner and dance. I thought it would be nice for us to go. We haven't been to anything like that."

"Do they let in ex-cons?"

Her faced paled at his words. "Unless you go around telling them, no one will ever know," she remarked quietly.

"Well, you won't, will you?" he countered easily. "You're an expert at keeping secrets, aren't you, Bra."

Her expression froze. He never missed an opportunity to drive home the knife. She turned away, tears stinging her eyes.

"Your dinner's in the oven," she said quietly, and started to walk out of the kitchen. Over her shoulder, with amazing calm, she added, "You'll need to wear your tux. It's dressy."


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Who else is going to this thing?" Goten asked, walking into the bathroom and stripped off his shirt.

Bulla tore her eyes away and concentrated on what he was saying.

"Lots of people. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself." If you want to, she wanted to add, but didn't.

"Glad you think so," he said sarcastically.

Something flared inside her. But again, she didn't say anything. She silently acknowledge that sudden surge of anger, noting that it seemed to be a common occurrence lately. So far she had been able to contain it, hold it in check, but she didn't know how much longer it would be before she would find herself lashing back at him. A part of her was beginning to rebel. It was time he put the past behind him.

Her eyes glittered with irritation as she applied make-up with a light touch and sprayed on her favorite body mist.

Goten who had showered in the spare bathroom, had come back into the master bedroom to dress. Barefoot, in the pants to his tuxedo, he idly buttoned his shirt, his gaze following her with a predatory gleam. Bulla slipped out of her robe with unhurried movements and stood in bikini briefs with high-cut French sides and a matching strapless lacy bra. She picked up her strapless lavender evening gown, loving the luscious feel of it as she put it against her bare skin. It was a beautiful gown. One of the best gowns she owned. It was sequenced at the chest, a stitched in shawl was wrapped tightly from the belly to hips, and the skirt flowed down to the ankles. After she had eased into it, she began to struggle to zip it up at the back. The bodice fit like glove, and she had to suck in her breath. She spoke to Goten over her shoulder.

"Would you give me a hand?"

She felt the zipper rising slowly. His hands slid to her waist and she started to pull away, but he refused to let her go, and a heavy sensuality suddenly swirled between them, like a thick morning mist, when he drew her back against his muscular length. Color marched up her bare shoulders and neck.

"There's no time," she murmured softly over her shoulder as she felt his lips caress the curve of her neck. He released her reluctantly.

There was no reply, and he turned away and walked towards the full-length mirror to finish buttoning his shirt while she bent to put on matching pumps. At the dresser, she opened the lid of her jewelry box. It was a meager collection, but she did have a small golden heart shaped locket with a beautiful inscription on it that her mother had given to her. It was something she had treasured, and she lifted it out and fixed the delicate gold chain round her neck, thinking that it would match beautifully with the gown. Then she turned this way and that to survey herself from all angles.

She had never looked so sophisticated. Marriage had added a new height to her femininity. The lavender gown showed off the perfection her creamy-colored skin, glowing nicely with the color of her dress. Her upswept hairstyle drew attention to the delicate line of her jaw, chin and graceful neck, and the small golden locket, nestled between her collarbones, was a charming touch.

She found Goten staring, and she gazed back at him. Blue eyes surveyed him slowly from head to foot. His dark good looks, light tanned skin and amazing black eyes contrasted with the elegant simplicity of the evening clothes that outlined his powerful masculinity, underscoring it without diminishing it in any way. He was breathtakingly good-looking, but not in a pretty way. She felt her blood run hot. Tearing her gaze away she picked up a matching sequenced clutch.

"I'm ready," she said, and prayed silently that this evening would be a step towards drawing them closer together.

The country club, which was really a golfing club, sat astride rolling expanses of green and, surrounded by bamboo trees, was beautifully landscaped. The main building was a rambling structure of timber, with large expanses of glass. Cars blocked the approaching roads, wraparound driveway and the adjoining parking lots.

The mild even greeted Bulla and Goten when they stepped out of the car and walked to the main entrance. There they were greeted by several people stopping to chat and exchange hellos as they made their way into the banquet room and nearby game room that had turned into a ballroom. The band was already warming up, playing a medley of light music. Bulla glanced up at Goten and saw he wore the closed, shuttered look that dominated his expression whenever he was around her. He was like a restless, wary, caged animal. A longing surged inside her, an intense longing for those laughing eyes and the easygoing humor that she had glimpsed only in brief snatches during those golden moments before he had discovered the truth. If only Trunks hadn't turned up, Bulla thought distractedly as they made their way through the crush of guests. If only…but she knew eventually it would have happened. Sooner or later something would have tripped her up.

Bulla turned at the sound of Valese's voice as her friend rushed up, dazzling in red. "I'm so glad you could come," she said. Her brown eyes and hair made the perfect contrast to the scarlet spaghetti strap gown that swirled around her ankles to display red satin pumps.

Valese led them to the banquet room, which was filled with circler white tables surrounded by people in glittering evening clothes. The music from the band drifted in from the adjoining room.

"We're all sitting over there." She pointed.

Across a sea heads, Bulla saw a group of young men and women. Wending their way through the tables Bulla, Goten and Valese finally managed to sit down. Bulla found herself sitting next to a tall, light brown haired man with crystal blue eyes.

"Hi, I'm Wenner," he said with a charming grin. "Ever been to one of these things before?" Bulla shook her head amiably.

They took an instant liking to each other. Wenner had a way about him that instantly won one over, Bulla thought. He wore a white dinner jacket that, unbuttoned, revealed a pleated spotless white shirt and black cummerbund around a trim waist.

Bulla cast a brief sideways glance at Goten whose enigmatic expression was changing to one of lingering interest as he noticed a curvaceous blonde next to him, who appeared to be slowly oozing out of the top of her gown. Bulla felt something remarkably like jealously sear through her and lowered her gaze to her lap, pretending to fasten the clasp on her clutch bag. White-jacket waiters began to circulate among the tables asking the guests what they wished in the way of drinks and for an entrée. Once orders were given, the conversation took off, mainly because most of the people around the table were the same age and unattached. It was all remarkable affable and lighthearted. Valese made rapid-fire introductions, throwing in bits of information about everyone.

"Are you a member?" Wenner enquired. His blue eyes twinkled at Bulla.

"We're guests of Valese's. I know her from work at Lilac's."

"I call her the little firecracker. She sizzles. Don't you agree?"

Bulla smiled at the description and then glanced sideways and saw Goten engaged in lazy conversation with the blonde. There was a smile on his face that irritated Bulla intensely. There were few, next to no smiles for her, but he managed to scrape one up when he was near a total stranger. She fumed inwardly, feeling the last shred of desire to please him rapidly fading.

"My husband's a pilot. Do you ever fly?" she asked Wenner.

"So happens that I do on the weekends. I play golf, do you?"

"No." She smiled mischievously. "But I do dance."

Wenner's eyes gleamed with amused interest. "Will your husband mind?"

"I don't think so." Goten was laughing at something the blonde had said. The sound of his laughter almost made Bulla flinch.

"I'd better not push my luck. I'll ask him," Wenner murmured, and rose from his chair.

Bulla watched as Goten turned his dark head, to look at Wenner with hostility barely disguised beneath a veneer of social politeness. He was going to ignore her, Bulla thought, but he didn't want anyone else to pay attention to her.

"I'd like to dance with your wife, if that's all right with you," Wenner said with debonair charm.

Goten murmured some almost inaudible reply, his gaze flickering over Bulla and then back to the blonde.

Wenner turned to Bulla.

"I think it's okay," Wenner said, "but he didn't look too happy about it." Bulla tried to smile, but it was a strain after the way Goten was behaving.

"Come on, then," Wenner said. They rose from the table and made their way out to the dance floor in the adjoining room. The band was a full flow, and the sophisticated medley of music and been replaced by a succession of recent rock hits.

"Do I detect a little marital friction?" Wenner eyes twinkled mischievously again.

"To be honest, it's more like a cold war."

He was a good dancer, Bulla thought idly, as he pulled her into his arms and they moved around the floor in a slow dance. She deliberately put her arms around his neck and let him hold her close.

"Getting even or just trying to teach him a lesson?" he murmured in her ear.

Bulla's eyes widened. She hadn't realized she was that transparent. "Neither. I'm simply going to enjoy myself." A reckless surge took her in its grip. "Do you mind?" she asked playfully. Tilting her head slightly so she could catch his expression.

"Not a bit." He grinned. "Maybe he needs something to think about."

She laughed as he swung her around and the music plunged into a reggae beat. Suddenly she felt lighthearted and exhilarated and evening seemed filled with fun. She happily put Goten out of her mind, as if she had put down the blinders. Tired of trying to please him when he was being impossible, she decided to enjoy herself and forget that he was there. A little voice nagged at her that this was not wise, but she paid it no heed.

After several dances, she and Wenner returned, a bit breathless, to the table. Valese looked up at them speculatively, raising an enquiring eyebrow.

The evening began to gather steam as dinner was served. Wenner launched into a long, funny story, and consequently, Bulla didn't notice the dark looks Goten cast in her direction from time to time. When she did happen to turn his way, she noticed that the blonde had lost no time in dragging Goten out on the dance floor.

"Miss Bleach Blonde Bomb, has her sights set on your silent wonder," Valese whispered into Bulla's ear. "Are you going to let her encroach on your territory?"

"That's up to Goten. He's a big boy." Bulla watched them, glued to each other, on the dance floor. She felt bruised.

"Yes, quite a healthy one, too, from the look of things," Valese drawled dryly. "He seems to be responding in a completely normal way."

"Who is she with? Is she with anyone?" Bulla was almost afraid to ask, thinking Goten's nocturnal excursions when she didn't know where he was.

"She's going to be with your husband, looks like."

"Who is she?"

"I believe she's someone's errant child. An army brat, probably some retired colonel's daughter. Most of the people around this table are the offspring of the members." Valese bent forward and murmured, "Some of them come with dates, but don't necessarily leave with them. Some of them even have that understanding when they arrive. Take her for instance. Her date is over there, I think." Valese indicated a dark-haired young man engrossed in conversation with a brunette. "She knows he's going home with whomever he likes, and so is she. Judging from the look in her eyes, she has high hopes for your husband."

Valese moved away. Wenner leaned forward and repeated Valese's observations. He couldn't help hearing sitting so close.

"What do you think of about that?" he asked.

"I doubt he'll give her a tumble. He's probably only doing it be irritating, getting back at me for dancing with you," Bulla said with a false show of bravado.

Wenner tipped his head to the side and cast a doubtful look at Goten and the blonde. "If you say so," he replied.

Bulla glanced furtively in the same direction and knew that Wenner's skepticism was not unfounded. She didn't know what went on in Goten's head, and she wasn't at all sure what he might do. She only knew that, although he had rejected every overture she had made to put things right between them, it cut her to the quick to see him with his arms around another woman. But instead of suffering in silence tonight, she felt rebellious, and something perverse surged inside her. Though she tried to stamp it out and told herself it was sheer folly, the rebellion that was flaring inside her could not be repressed, and though she knew no good whatsoever could come of it, she felt herself succumbing to it.

As the evening progressed, those feelings became increasingly more difficult to hide, and the mood that had infected her had transmitted itself to Goten. With a cold assessing look in his black eyes, he struck back with calculated intent. He encouraged the busty blonde with lazy sensual charm and cut in when she was dancing with Wenner. In fact, he was glued to Miss Bleach Blonde Bomb.

Bulla tried hard to be sophisticated and nonchalant, but it was foreign to her nature to play brittle games of one-upmanship where love was concerned. She felt her composure begin to develop some serious cracks in it. Her tremulous pride was taking a severe battering. Her emotions, already bruised after weeks of rejection, rose up in havoc.

Suddenly the atmosphere in the rooms, pulsating with heat of many bodies, seemed to be stifling, and the rising crescendo of voices fueled by the consumption of alcohol grew deafening so that Bulla developed a pounding headache. The infectious tempo of music that before had produced a temporary state of euphoria and lured her out onto the dance floor now sounded discordant and loud. The whole evening seemed to take on a nightmarish note.

Wenner looked down at her as they moved together on the packed dance floor. "He's coming on strong with that Miss Bleach Blonde Bomb," Wenner said, calling the blonde by the nickname Valese had given her

"I know," Bulla said wearily as defeat crept into her voice. It was heartbreakingly clear who loved whom, she thought dismally. She couldn't keep up this charade of happiness, this sophisticated plunge into avenging flirtation. She was too thin-skinned and didn't have the toughness necessary to indulge in such dubious adult games.

"He strikes back forcefully," Wenner observed dryly.

"I know," Bulla agreed. "He stopped turning the other cheek a long time ago. It's what he usually does."

Bulla couldn't understand Goten's behavior. It confused her. He continually rejected her overtures of love for him, throwing her affections aside as if it were Thursday's trash. Yet when she paid anyone else the slightest bit of attention, he retaliated swiftly and sharply. It didn't make any sense.

"He's an idiot if he doesn't appreciate you. I really like you. You're beautiful, funny, smart, and fun to be around. He's totally blind if he doesn't realize what a wife he has." Wenner whispered in her ear. "If you were my wife I'd never let you out of my sight and I'd worship you like a madman."

He was flirting outrageously, but the words felt like an ointment to her staggering confidence and bruised feelings. She looked around and couldn't see Goten. The awful specter of him leaving with that blonde loomed immediately. _He wouldn't go that far. Would he?_ she wondered gloomily. Suddenly tears stung at the backs of her eyes as she came to the swift conclusion that he would. All the stinging rejection and the continuous denial by Goten of any expression of his emotions over the past weeks swamped her. The last remnants of her composure disintegrated.

Seeing her visible distress, Wenner bent forward. "Can I help, Bulla?"

"Please don't misunderstand," Bulla said, hoping he wouldn't take this as some kind of provocative invitation. "But can you give me a lift home? I don't want to stay any longer," she added on a wobbly note.

"Of course I will. I promise to be a gentleman and not take advantage." He displayed sharp perception and quiet winning charm.

Bulla rose and went to explain the situation to Valese.

"You're crazy as a loon, Bulla, to walk off and leave that fake boobed bitch a clear field," Valese remarked.

"I'm not staying and making a scene. When Goten comes to his senses, he'll find me at home. Tell him that, if he bothers to ask. Wenner is taking me home. Do you think I can rely on him to behave?"

Valese's mouth curved into a reassuring smile. "Wenner is an old friend of the family. We grew up together. He's a gentleman, and you're in good hands," she reassured Bulla.

Bulla responded with a weak smile. She picked up her clutch bag from the table, and she and Wenner treaded their way through the still-crowded banquet room, where people dawdled over coffee and brandy. As they made their way to the hallway, Bulla felt like digging a hole and crawling into it, licking her wounds and never coming out into the glare of light again. The evening had been an unmitigated disaster.

She followed Wenner down the long hallway. Loud music and voices drifted after them, as if haunting them. Wenner put a reassuring arm on Bulla's. It was a comforting gesture. Bulla appreciated the kind intent and was thinking what a genuinely nice person Wenner was when suddenly a deep, compelling voice halted them both.

"Where do you think you're going with my wife?"

Goten's voice was deceptively lazy, but it still made all Bulla's reflexes leap. She spun around and saw him standing there with a quietly murderous gleam in his eyes. The same slight aggression hovered around his body, as if he were about to spring at someone or something. He had exactly the same look in his eyes leaden black eyes that she had seen in the alleyway the night they went to the club, and it frightened her. She stood transfixed, and Wenner sensed her apprehension immediately.

Wenner confronted Goten, but he was marvelously in control of himself and his natural grace and easygoing charm remained undaunted. He answered without being diminished in any way.

"I was taking her home, friend, since you seemed to be preoccupied with someone else," Wenner explained.

"You've got thirty seconds to disappear, _friend_." Goten's voice was low-pitched and without emotion, flat and deadly calm, like the eye of a hurricane before the storm passes over.

Very wisely, Wenner stepped aside, rising one hand in the air in a placating gesture. "I was only taking her home. Nothing underhanded intended. She asked me to take her home."

Goten gazed at him with cynical disbelief shadowing his eyes. But he said nothing, as if Wenner's words weren't worthy of response. He continued watching as Wenner turned to address Bulla.

"It was nice meeting you, Bulla. Good night," he said quietly, then strolled away, his debonair charm still intact.

Bulla stared after him in disbelief and then she turned to Goten, her blue eyes flashing defiantly. "Of all the—"

Goten didn't let her finish. His hand shot out and seized her upper arm, propelling her through the entrance and out into the mild evening. The sky overhead was spangled with stars, Bulla noticed vaguely as Goten practically frog marched her to their car.

In the same deadly calm voice that he had used to Wenner, he spoke to her. "Get in." His low tone vibrated in her ears with compelling force. She remained rigid, and his large hand shoved her inside as if she were a recalcitrant child that he was taking home from some social setting where it had disgraced itself.

She seethed silently as he slammed the car door and walked around to the other side. Where did he get off playing the outraged husband when he had been behaving outrageously with that that blonde all evening?

Without looking at her, he climbed in and turned the ignition key. The engine turned over, and the car surged out of the circular driveway, leaving a spray of gravel behind it. Goten tore down the road as if he were flying a plane and not driving a car at all.

"Slow down!" she yelled. He pressed his foot down and raced through a red traffic light. "Are you trying to get us hurt, o-or worse!" she cried hysterically. "Do you want to end up in jail for manslaughter again?!" The words were torn from her before she could control them. "I'm sorry," she faltered. "I didn't mean that."

Although he slowed down considerably, he still drove at a fast clip the rest of the distance home, his grim expression never altering.

The tires screeched as the car swept into the driveway of the condominium. In a cold, wordless rage, he got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Bulla didn't look at him as he towered over her. Inside, she didn't linger, but walked straight up to their bedroom and began fumbling with zipper at the back of the lavender evening gown. She heard him coming.

With a brisk flick of his hand, the zipper went sailing down, and the back of the gown spit in two, parting ways so her hands had to support the front of it, clutching it to her bosom. She started to move away, still not looking at him, but his hands seized her bare shoulders, and he spun her around. She met his blazed black eyes, he looked down at her as he struggled to hold in check seething emotions. He towered over her, and his body seemed to pulsate with outrage male pride, which both surprised and confused her.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Bulla," he warned in a voice that was low and controlled but vibrated with soft menace. "What did you think you were playing at?"

"I don't know what you mean," she countered loftily.

"You know damned well what I mean!" he snapped, his eyes furious in an incredibly sensuous face. "Leading on that smooth-talking parasite all evening. And don't telling me you were discussing the state of the fucking economy with him. There's nothing wrong with my eyesight. I don't like other men sniffing around my bone. If I ever see anybody taking you home again, I'm telling you here and now I won't be responsible for my actions."

She glared at him in disbelief. His bone! How dare he! How dare he ignore her, only turning to her to satisfy some physical urge, barely speaking to her most of the time, disappearing at night; and now because she had received a little male attention that was not coming from him, he had the audacity to fly into a black rage, when he acted as though he couldn't _see _her most of the time. She flew at him, all caution thrown to the winds.

"_You had disappeared somewhere!_ Presumably to help that blonde the rest of the way out of her dress. I find it hard to understand why you would care what I do." She laughed on a bubble of rising hysteria. "What I do doesn't affect you, simply because you have no feelings left that I'm aware of. You conveniently locked them away when we got married. If you recall, Wenner asked for your permission to dance with me in the first place. I only asked him to take me home because you seemed preoccupied with that…that…woman." Bulla's defiance only added to the blistering heat rising between them.

Goten suddenly hauled her towards him, his hands biting with bruising intensity into the soft skin of her upper arm. He wanted to say something but she could see that he was struggling with himself not to say it, as a small muscle jumped along the side of his jaw. His taut features more implacable, if that were possible. Then he gave a swift, sardonic flash of a smile.

"For your information, she left with her date, and I went to the men's room."

Bulla face paled. She had been so sure that he had left with the blonde.

"Let's get something straight. You belong to me exclusively. I'm not getting in any line at your door."

His words dragged up more of the seething anger inside her from the reservoir where it had been accumulating for weeks. And it finally snapped as she got loose from his hold on her and slapped him with such a force she never even realized she possessed. It made his head snapped back and he stumbled backwards and there was a red imprint where she had slapped the right side of his face.

"I am not your bone, and I am not your whore. I don't belong to anyone, and certainly of all you," She whispered angrily. "And I will thank you to remember that! I'm not someone you can conveniently put aside and then take out when you have some physical urge!" She started to sweep past him, but he caught her.

"I don't ever recall you refusing any of my physical urges," he taunted as his voice dropped softly. "I don't remember any complaints when you were in my bed." He dragged her back to him and pulled her into his arms to kiss her while she twisted in vain. He molded her to him, and they were pressed urgently together, straining to get closer. A fervor invaded their kisses and began to consume them.

In the weeks that followed, Bulla tried to stay aloof in mind and spirit. She moved into the spare bedroom. She made no more attempts to win him over. She decided he had to come around of his own accord. It was something that had to come from him. There was a time when one had to put the past behind him. When that notion would come to Goten's conscious mind, she didn't know, she reflected sadly. But she knew that it had to or there would be no hope for them. Or their baby.

Work helped her to keep her balance emotionally, but her thoughts returned again and again to Goten, and she wondered if there had been anything she had overlooked, something she could have done, some other explanation she could have made or words she could have said. But nothing came to mind. As far as she knew, she had tried everything she could think of, and none of it made any difference.

Aware of Bulla's preoccupation, Valese was concerned about her.

"Well," Valese said, perching on her usual spot on Bulla's desk.

"Well, what?" Bulla asked.

"How are things since the dance at the country club? Tell me to shut up if you think I'm overstepping the bounds of friendship."

Valese was a good friend, but Bulla didn't want to talk at length about her married life. It made her uneasy.

"Things are a bit cool at the moment." If she were completely honest, _arctic _would have been a better word, she thought.

"Are you speaking?"

"Just," Bulla admitted.

"Good grief. Two-Words is down to one or maybe none at all. How do you communicate with each other?"

"We don't, unless we're forced to." And we're sleeping in separate bedrooms, she could have added, but would have found it embarrassing mentioning that even to Valese, with whom she'd always been fairly open and relaxed.

"I think I get the picture. The big chill in _every_ situation." Valese leaned over and patted her hand. "Take my advice and don't worry. It will all blow over."

Bulla didn't say anything. From the looks of things, it was not going to blow over. This wasn't just another newlyweds' tiff. But she couldn't tell Valese that, so she smiled bravely, and Valese slipped off the edge of the desk, announcing, as usual, that it was time she did some work.

Bulla was going through the files, getting something out for Mr. Phoenix, when she happened to see Goten's personal file. For some inexplicable reason, she pulled it out absentmindedly and glanced at it, as if it brought her closer to him somehow. As if it somehow closed the painful gap that was growing ever wider between them, a gap that was growing ever wider between them, a gap she seemed powerless to close. Her gaze traveled over the familiar typed page of his application form and suddenly stopped at his birth date. His birthday was only a few days away.

A smile curled the corners of her mouth at the discovery. She would get him a present. Something that would really please him. And she would bake him a cake. She had discovered he had a fondness for chocolate cake. Optimistically, she slammed the file drawer closed and turned around. But on earth could she buy that would really please him? It was going to take some thought. She went back to work and kept the idea tucked away in the corner of her mind.

At the end of the day, she drove home in the rush-hour traffic still trying to come up with something. She had noticed that his wardrobe was well supplied. He really lacking for anything, so she dismissed clothing. She thought of his various leather jackets and remembered vaguely that one was beginning to show signs of wear and tear. Yet he had several almost-new ones.

On an impulse she stopped at a bookshop and asked the clerk what they had on aviation. He showed her a marvelous thick volume coving the development of the airplane from its invention up to modern times. The book was beautifully bound, the illustrations were lavish and the history of man's adventure with aviation was written in a style intellectually stimulating and jam-packed with information. She couldn't imagine Goten not liking it. Even a man well-acquainted with the development of the airplane would find it engrossing, and she had noticed that in the evenings he often read material related to flying and manuals on airplane engines. She decided to buy it, paid the exorbitant price and left, pleased with her purchase.


	14. Chapter 13

**Happy Valentine's Day! It really does pay off to do two chapters at the same time! :D I am so F'ing tired though and will be going to bed now. I hope you guys enjoy the this chapter!**

Chapter 13

When she arrived home, Goten was already lounging in front of the television, watching the evening news. She walked into the room to say hello.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I had some last-minute shopping to do." His gaze swept over her. "Have you eaten anything? I was just going to make something for myself."

"No," he replied, getting up from the overstuffed sofa and walked towards her. She turned away and started towards the kitchen when his words made her steps falter. "How much longer are you sleeping that spare room?"

Her steps slowed, and she paused before she answered him. "Until you start acting like a human being."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know perfectly well what I mean," she retorted over her shoulder, and went the rest of the distance into the kitchen.

Bulla stood showering later that evening. Her head was tipped back. She had been standing with her eyes closed, enjoying the wonderful sensation of warm water pelting down on her skin. Finally she opened her eyes and turned off the water. She happened to look through the steamy glass door and saw Goten coming into the bathroom. She slid back the door to the shower cubicle and stepped out hastily, reaching for a towel, but his well-built, rangy frame blocked her way, and with one of his devastating sensual smiles, he snatched up the towel and held it up, out of her way.

"Give me that." Water streamed down her face and soft curves. She reached for the towel again, and again he held it silently and tantalizingly out of her reach, using his height against her.

"Give me that towel," she cried.

His ebony eyes traveled over her silently, with lingering, insolent inspection.

"Come and get it," he murmured huskily. "It's been over a week since I touched you." She started to rush past him, but he sized her and stopped her. Water was streaming down her smooth, soft skin, but he was heedless of it as he brought her close to him to so that she was pressed against the material of his shirt. She moaned helplessly.

"This won't solve anything."

"It will solve one thing," he said roughly, and pulled her close as his mouth captured hers with a hungry insistence and his arms tightened around her, drawing her close against his powerful body, his hipbones and muscular thighs pressing into her.

A sigh escaped from her mouth; she couldn't contain it. It felt so good to be in his arms again. They clung to each other, kissing hungrily, voraciously.

Goten broke off the kiss and murmured in her ear. "I'm not going to bed alone tonight." Then he effortlessly scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom, and they fell onto the bed. She clung to him, twining her legs with his, kissing him back deeply as his hands slid over the still-damp surface of her skin. When they had finished making love, he wrapped one arm possessively around her body, and she slept curved into his warmth.

On Saturday when Goten was at Lilac's talking over flight rescheduling and last-minute cargo changes with Mr. Phoenix, Bulla delved into the cupboards and got busy on the chocolate cake. She had already wrapped the book and hidden it in the closet underneath the stairs. She baked the cake and then opened all the doors to get the aroma of baking out of the house so that Goten wouldn't guess what she had been up to when he returned. After the cake cooled, she whipped up the icing and spread the filling between the layers. Then, glancing rapidly at the clock to check how much time she had left, she covered the top of the cake with swirls of chocolate icing and piped on _**Happy Birthday, Goten!**_ in mocha. She stood back to admire her handiwork for a few moments before she stored the cake in the fridge.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Bulla murmured when they had finished dinner, a small smile made the delicate features of her face more beautiful.

He tensed at her words, and, in stony silence, gazed at the cake she had put on the table, then at the present she held, as if they were both lethal in some way. Bulla's heart began to falter from its mad dance of excitement and the smile faded. It became instantly clear that this wasn't going to go as she had hoped.

"How did you know?" he asked chillingly.

"I happened to be looking in the filing cabinet. And I came across your application, I pulled it out and noticed that your birthday was coming up. Would you like to cut the cake or open your present first? I'm sure you'll love it." She held out the present to him.

Abruptly he rose from the table, as if he wanted to dismiss the whole thing from his mind. "I don't feel like cake. Thanks." He had the closed expression on his face that made her feel instantly shut out. She could see emotions warring inside him, a tiny muscle flicking in his jaw. Clearly, her actions had struck some raw nerve.

"I don't want any more _surprises_ from you," he added. There was a double-edged meaning in his voice. She knew that he was referring to his discovery of who she really was. "If you think you're going to worm your way into my heart again, you're dead wrong, Bulla."

His words stabbed at her heart and it felt like it was shattering into a million pieces and she didn't even try to hide the tears that now streamed down her face. Through blurry sight, she watched him turn and leave the kitchen. She stared at the cake and the present for several long moments, before she collapsed into a chair as loud sobs raked her body. There was just no hope. He didn't love her and never would. She had given him everything, and he threw it aside like it was piece of garbage.

She rose slowly, tears still trickling down her face but the sobs had quieted as she wrapped the cake and put it in the refrigerator. Then she walked away, leaving the gift on the table.

She heard the front door slam, and something inside her snapped. He had gone out again, to wherever it was he disappeared to. It was the last straw. He had successfully killed whatever feeling she had when she heard him walk out that door, she thought. She walked quickly up the stairs, thinking how nice it was to feel nothing, absolutely nothing. It was really a wonderful relief, this numbness, after all the emotional pain of his rejection. She pulled out a suitcase and began packing her clothes. When she had packed all she needed, she carried the bags to her car.

She got into the car and sat looking at the house that had been her home for such a brief time, and then with the same dispassionate efficiency she had used to pack her belongings, she drove away down the busy street. She was not really certain of where she was going, only that she _was _going. She was definitely going away, and she was definitely not coming back.

While she drove, her mind began to work furiously. She would get herself somewhere to live, and she would find another job. She would never let Goten come near her again. She could see that she was fighting a useless battle. He was determined to keep the emotional gap between them, a yawning gulf. She could never accept that, nor would she ever bring a baby into that kind of home.

With all her hopes dashed, she stopped at a nearby newsstand and picked up one of the out-of-town newspapers. Then she drove to a motel and paid the clerk behind the desk for one night.

As she lay in bed in the darkened motel room with only the air conditioner humming in the background, images of Goten flashed through her mind. The first time she had blundered into him in Mr. Phoenix's office. The wry grin on his face when he had asked her if she did that sort of thing often. The picnic at Lilac Park, when he had virtually dared her to go out with him. Their first date and the first time he had kissed her. The evening at the club when he had retaliated with swift aggression in the alleyway. The scenes filled her with an overwhelming sense of loss. But the images that stood out the most were the sun-soaked days aboard the yacht when Goten had stood silhouetted against the blazing sun like some graven image. And that first time he had made love to her, and the nights that followed. Those memories, illuminated in her mind, were far more brilliant than the others, and as she recalled them in the darkness of the motel room, it was like the sun going in and out of the clouds, elusive and forever out of reach now.

An errant tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She brushed it away, sighing raggedly at the overwhelming love she felt for him, a love that was never meant to be. A cruel fate had twisted their lives inexorably and made sure that it was impossible for their love to exist once the terrible truth was revealed about what she and her brother had done. How could any love, no matter how strong, survive that? She had gotten angry at Goten, but she had really no right. She had told herself that there was a time to forgive and forget. Perhaps there was. But human beings couldn't seem to help how they felt, no matter how hard they tried, and it was pretty obvious that Goten couldn't help how he felt about her. She had become convinced of that, convinced that he wasn't capable of loving her completely after what he had discovered, after trying to live with what she had done. He'd be glad she'd left. After all, he'd gotten his revenge. He wouldn't want her or the baby.

"We'll be okay," Bulla whispered softly as she placed her hand on her still flat stomach. "We'll be okay." Another silent tear rolled down her face, and she wished for the hundredth time that there was some way she could make it up to Goten. Finally she turned her face into the oblivion of the pillow, glad not to have to think anymore.

In the morning, she'd decided to go to Trunks. Perhaps she could stay with him for a few days until she decided where she wanted to go. She left the motel, stowed her suitcase into the trunk of the car and was soon on the highway.

When she reached South City, she stopped at a diner for breakfast and decided to call Trunks to let him know that she was coming.

The phone buzzed several times before a sleepy voice answered.

"Dammit all, who the hell is this?" Trunks mumbled. Bulla could hear him fumbling with the clock.

"It's me, Bulla." Her voice floated tremulously over the wire, and sleepy as Trunks was, his sixth sense, some fine intuitive thread that held the brother and sister together through thick and thin, picked up the anxiety immediately.

"What's the matter? You'd never call me at this godforsaken hour if there wasn't something wrong. Where are you calling from?"

"I'm at a little diner, in route to your condominium." Bulla wondered how she would dare to ask Trunks if she could stay with him for a few days—she had practically turned him away when Trunks was looking for a place to stay. She heard a distant click and knew Trunks was busy lighting up a cigarette, trying to get his thoughts focused.

"What's happened? As if I don't already know," Trunks said. Bulla had written to tell him about the wedding, which, given the circumstances, she hadn't been able to invite him to. "You and Goten. He's never forgiven you, has he?" Trunks immediately zeroed in on the problem. "I told you this would happen."

He had indeed, Bulla remembered, but she had no more able to turn away from Goten than she could stop breathing.

"That's about it," Bulla confessed wearily, not wanting to get involved in any details on the phone. "I'd like to come and stay with you, Trunks. May I? I know I have no right after turning you away, but it will only be for a few days until I decide what I'm going to do next. Will it be okay?"

There was a moment's silence in which Bulla thought Trunks was going to refuse.

"Have you got a paper and pencil to jot down directions? At least he can't find you here," Trunks added.

"No," Bulla said. "He doesn't know where you are, so it's safe for both of us." She reflected sadly that adversity had thrown her and her brother together once again and upon each other's resources where Goten was concerned. "I'll see you around lunchtime," Bulla said after she'd finished writing down the directions.

The drive to Trunks' was a long and lonely one. When she arrived, Trunks was dressed and waiting for her, holding open the front door to allow her to pass through into the spacious lounge. Trunks asked if she wanted anything, fruit juice or tea or coffee. Bulla shook her head and gazed around the nicely furnished town house.

Trunks shrugged in a carefree gesture. "The devoice settlement went very well. Maddison only took what was rightfully hers. She was pretty fair. Kami only knows why. I was a crummy husband, and I deserved to get squeezed dry."

Bulla smiled wistfully. She wondered if she had been a crummy wife. She certainly had tried to be a good one. She'd given it all she had, and it still hadn't worked out, she reflected, sinking wearily onto the leather sofa.

Trunks stared at her speculatively. "So, what happened? Pour your heart out. Get it off your chest, Sis. You'll feel better." He sank into matching leather chair and reached for a cigarette, lighting it, watching and waiting as he exhaled. His lavender hair took on a nice shade in the bright sunshine that streamed into the well decorated lounge.

Bulla began hesitantly. "I couldn't get through his anger. He cared for me at first, but anger and resentment were stronger." She rose from the sofa and walked towards the patio doors that looked out over the broad expanse of beach and shining ocean waters. "I thought in time love would win out, that if I tried hard enough, if I was patient enough, if I loved him enough, that surely the anger and resentment would disappear, that the love would be stronger. I was so certain of it. So positive at first. But I was wrong." She turned around with a bleak look in her eyes. "I always thought love was the strongest emotion—didn't you?—stronger than hatred, and that it could win out against all the odds. That it was, indeed, a ruling passion, but I guess I was wrong," she added with a futile, little gesture.

"I was wrong, Trunks. If he does feel anything for me, he's locked it away so deeply inside him, he's guarded it and hidden it away so well, that it's invisible. I see no signs of it. Sometimes I don't think he even has access to it himself. Oh, Trunks, I love him so much, and I can't get through that thick wall he surrounds himself with."

Trunks brushed ash from his cigarette and gazed steadily back at Bulla, not saying anything for a long moment. "You're a lucky girl, Bra."

"Lucky! How can you say that?" Bulla demanded incredulously. "How can you say that when I've lost what's mattered the most to me in the whole world?"

"You're lucky to even to be able to love like you do," Trunks said in a murmured tone that expressed a hint that perhaps he, himself, had been deprived of that ability.

"_If_ you've lost him. Why are you so sure you have?" Trunks challenged. "Maybe when he finds out you're gone, he'll realize what he's lost and want you back."

"I doubt it. I've tried everything." Bulla sank back again into the sofa. "He's capable of desire. Oh, he wants me. I've never doubted that for one moment. But he doesn't love me." Bulla described some of the incidents that had led up to her departure. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to leave. It's hard living where there's only love on one side," she added finally as emptiness crept in her voice.

Trunks smiled with brittle charm. "I know, I've experienced that myself, but in my case, Maddison was giving all the love and I wasn't giving any back." He stabbed out his cigarette. "We were affected differently by our home life. You were luckier, Bulla, than I was. It left you with the ability to love. It killed something inside me. In my marriage, Maddison loved, cared, and gave everything she had and I did all the taking and gave nothing in return. And it wasn't all selfishness on my part. It was an inability to return her love." He got up and walked across the room. "But not everyone is destined to remain that way. I knew Goten before the accident. I remember what he was like. Not to sound gay or anything, but he struck me as a guy capable of great tenderness, as well as great strength."

Bulla paced across the room, her jeans outlining her model-like curves, her loose, halter-neck top displaying perfect shoulders as she swung around.

"My love for Goten was destined for tragedy," Bulla murmured hoarsely as a sense of loss surged through her. "I felt so guilty about what we did to him but I couldn't help the love I felt for him. I guess you could call it guilty love." She smiled bitterly at her own joke but continued on. "There were great risks involved, but also great rewards. But it looks as though I gambled and lost," she said quietly. "But I've been thinking, Trunks. There is something I can gamble in that might be more successful."

Trunks frowned in puzzlement.

"The other day I read in the newspaper about a man who went to prison on a charge of rape. Several years later, the victim came forward and said that she had lied. The man was released, and as far as I know, the woman was never prosecuted for what she had done. I don't know all the whys and wherefores of the case, but I do know the man was exonerated, and I think some financial restitution was made to him for court expenses, and so forth." She looked at Trunks for a long moment to give added emphasis to her next words. "I want to do that for Goten. I want us to clear his name." She watched as Trunks' expression went from a relaxed bemusement to a taut white mask.

"Do you even realize what you're saying?" Trunks gasped. "There are no guarantees that we'll be as lucky as that woman you read about. I could go to prison. I don't know, Bra. I don't know if I have that kind of courage."

"I want us to try, Trunks, to do our best to clear Goten's name. To give him back that which is his—the respect of those around him, the opportunity to get the job he wants."

Trunks went rigid and said nothing.

"Oh, Trunks, we have to do this. We have to do it for Goten. But we have to do it for ourselves, too," she whispered in a voice that had grown choked with emotion.

Trunks moved across the room and stood gazing at the ocean. Bulla waited, saying nothing, and the heavy moments of silence ticked by. Her hopes fell as she sensed that Trunks was going to refuse to help.

"One time, Trunks, I did something for you. Now I'm asking that you do this for me. You owe it to me." Bulla waited for what seemed like an eternity before Trunks slowly turned around to look at her.

"I can't," he said. "I just can't, Bra."

Bulla drew in a deep breath. "Then I'll go to the authorities alone."

"You've made up your mind?" Trunks said. "He means that much to you?"

"Yes, he does. And he's the father of my baby."

"You're pregnant!" Trunks seemed to be in shock as Bulla nodded. "Alright. You don't leave me with much choice. I'll do it," Trunks said.

Bulla moved across the room and wrapped her arms around Trunks, resting her head against his shoulder as he slowly wrapped his arms around her and patted her head. "Thank you, Trunks," she murmured heartfelt as she looked up at her brother. "We can explain the extenuating circumstances. I'm sure that would carry some weight with the judge."

The door slammed behind Goten that night as he entered the house. He unzipped his leather jacket and threw it onto the nearest chair and picked up the evening paper. He hadn't come home the night before or all day. There was an emptiness to the house, something strangely missing. _Bulla must not be home yet,_ he thought. That was it. One quick glance at his wristwatch told him that she should be in by now. Where was she?

He tossed down the paper and went into the kitchen. Something on the table caught his eye. It was his birthday present, still wrapped, untouched. It looked forlorn lying there, and he felt a stab of remorse for not even looking at it and Bulla's tear filled eyes at what he had said to her flashed through his mind. Why had he done that? he asked himself. He knew the answer. It was that he didn't want to let her get close to him again. He was afraid to, after what she had done. Could he ever again really trust her with his feelings? he wondered for the hundredth time.

Slowly alarm began to shoot inside him. He walked quickly to the kitchen door, opened it and peered into the garage to see if her car was there. One quick glance told him it wasn't. Maybe she wasn't coming home. Maybe she'd had enough. His pulse began to race, and with swift strides he left the kitchen. Taking the stairs two at a time, he charged into the master bedroom. The first thing he saw was the empty dresser. None of Bulla's body mists or hairbrushes or cosmetics remained. He strode to the closet and yanked open the double doors, instantly confirming his worst fears. Only a row of his suits and jackets greeted his eyes, and empty hangers, disturbed by the draft of air, swung back and forth, seeming to taunt him. His gaze scanned the equally empty shelves above where her suitcases had been stored. They were gone. She was gone.

Stunned, he stepped back. Then with a quick, sharp movement, he flung the closet doors closed again. He muttered a string of expletives and whispered her name to himself, just once, then stood silently and pensively staring into space. His mind threw silent accusations at him.

_What did you expect would happen? You damned fool. You drove her away. _The swift sharp reprimands echoed in his head as he stood in the center of the room absorbing the intense emptiness of the house, coming to the undeniable conclusion that she was gone forever. He had lost her. He slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorjamb and slid to the floor. _Was it any wonder?_ a silent voice inside his head accused relentlessly. It was what he deserved, he thought, still with the grim expression hardening the contours of his face, deepening the creases around his mouth, making his ebony eyes go a stormy leaden black. What did he expect? He wondered how he had been so blind to what was inevitably going to happen. It was a miracle she hadn't walked out sooner. He had ignored her, kept what feelings he had for her locked deep within him, buried so deeply that even he wasn't sure he could get at them anymore.

He pulled out a cigarette and cupped it with his hand as he lit it. Relentlessly he reminded himself of exactly how he had treated her. He had treated her and made love to her as if she were a whore, just like she had told him before. Yes, that was a fair description. He went to her only when the physical needs of his body drove him. When he had satisfied himself, he put her away from him again. He needed no one to spell it out for him. He had done it deliberately and methodically so that she could never get too close to him again. It had been his ultimate weapon, his strongest protection, so that she could never muddle his mind with all those confused, conflicting emotions he felt for her. He had never once told her how much he loved her or needed her, or how, in spite of his silent ways, he always looked for her. How it made him feel good just to know she was there. How much he liked simply waking up with her alongside him. He had thrown it all away, not letting her know it mattered. Why?

Because he couldn't help how he felt about what she had done. He let bitterness and his dark anger hide his love from her. He had even hid it from himself. He had been really clever, really smart, he thought scornfully. But he had fooled no one but himself. Because it was only now, now that she was gone, that he was beginning to realize what she meant to him and how much he loved her. Now, when it was too late.

_I want you to remember something, Goten. Whatever happens between us, I love you. I love you more than anything. I want you to remember that. Will you always remember that?_

But it wasn't too late, he decided as let the memory of what she had told him flood his mind. He would get her back and tell her how he really felt. He had to find her and put things right.

Bulla left Trunks' the following week, knowing that the legal red tape and machinations took time. She and Trunks had gone to the South City's attorney's office and reported all that had happened, the true details of the accident, their lies, even their home situation. Now it was up to the police and the courts.

With a lighter heart, Bulla went on to Bridge-Town to find an apartment and a new job. Bridge-Town was a growing city, and she knew there would be plenty of opportunities there.

Trunks promised to keep her informed of any legal maneuverings in the clearing of Goten's name and how it affected them. Bulla left with a feeling of intense gratitude inside her. What Trunks had done took courage. Bulla knew that on her part it was only a deep love for Goten that had guided her actions.

By the end of the week, Bulla had found a small apartment with a rent that she thought she could manage. She'd also lined up several interviews for a new job, one of them with a major airline. They had advertised for a secretary, and, with her experience at Lilac's, she thought it looked very promising.

She immediately contacted Alex Phoenix for a reference and found that she had some explaining to do. Apart from a hurried phone call the morning she'd left, she hadn't spoken to him. He was very understanding and promised her a glowing reference. Bulla begged him not to tell Goten that she had called, but getting him to agree to that was a little more difficult.

"I don't mind telling you, Goten has been walking around here with a face that would make a dead man jump up from his grave," Mr. Phoenix said. "Everyone clears a path five feet wide when they see him coming. Let me at least tell him where you are and that you're all right and put him out of his misery. No matter what happened between you two, he has a right to know that you're safe and unharmed. He deserves that much, at least."

Bulla considered this and realized that Mr. Phoenix was right. "You can tell him that I'm safe, but you can't, under any circumstances, tell him where I am. Promise me you won't."

"Okay, Bulla. I just hope you know what you're doing," Alex Phoenix said. He also promised that he would let no one else know where she was. True to his word, Alex fired off a reference that helped Bulla land the job with the airline.

The intense activity of getting resettled was a boon at first to Bulla's flagging spirits, because it kept her occupied physically and mentally. It was only at night when she was alone that thoughts of Goten came flooding back into her mind. Trying not to think of him was a losing battle. The numbness had worn off, and now the full realization of what she had lost struck her with reoccurring force. It came in waves. She cried herself to sleep on more than one night and picked up her cellphone to call him on many more, but something always stopped her—a sense of self-preservation and a conviction that the same cruel twist of fate that had thrown them together and somehow decreed that they should part.

With a quiet tenacity, she made her way through the first weeks in Bridge-Town, going through the motions of living, coming to grips with her new job, furnishing her apartment, fining an obstetrician and preparing for the baby. Yet, questions always hovered in the back of her mind. What was Goten doing? Did he think of her as much as she thought of him? Was he looking for her?

She had written a long, newsy letter to Valese explaining that she and Goten had parted and that she was making a new life for herself. She sighed, wondering if she had done the right thing. She wished her mind would switch off. She was weary of the endless chain of unanswered thoughts.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Bulla closed the door to her apartment's tiny bedroom and sighed as she looked around the small living room and microscopic kitchen. The apartment's main attraction was that it was near her work. There wasn't much else you could say for it.

It had been her home since she'd left Goten, almost ten months ago now. She made a conscious effort to push thoughts of Goten from her mind.

She walked over to the desk, picked up a letter from Valese and idly flipped through the pages. She hadn't replied to it yet. She would do that today, she promised herself, glancing over the sheets of scrawl that so matched Valese's personality. As she read, an inevitable smile curved her mouth. The letter was newsy and funny and typical Valese, she thought.

The doorbell suddenly rang, and she looked up with a frown and put the letter back on the desk.

Bulla glanced hastily in the mirror. She was dressed casually in faded jeans and a red flannel shirt, open at the neck with the sleeves rolled up. She looked clean and wholesome, but it was definitely not one of her more glamorous days, she admitted ruefully. Her hair, which she had pulled back, had managed with a will of its own to spring from its ponytail, cascading in errant waves surrounding her face. She been cleaning the apartment, and her face was slightly flushed from her exertions.

She opened the door and was suddenly paralyzed. Goten stood gazing down at her, looking darkly handsome, his well-built rangy body filling the door frame. Bulla's heart began to pound erratically. She tried to unlock her eyes from his gaze, but it was useless.

"Hello, Bulla." His quiet voice had a staggering effect as his sensuous black eyes slipped over her, exerting an immediate pull on her senses.

"What are you doing here?" she finally managed to get out in a soft, tremulous voice, realizing it was a foolish question, because she really didn't want to know. She just wanted him to go away. But he hovered over her, looking breathtakingly handsome—and threatening. Dressed in a black leather jacket that hung unzipped, a dark grey shirt and dark fitted blue jeans, he looked very much like as he had the first time he had walked back into her lift in the airplane hangar at Lilac's.

"I don't want you here," she whispered.

"May I come in? Or do we have this conversation while I stand out here in the hall?"

Knowing Goten, he would stand there and let the whole apartment block know what he had to say. He didn't care what people thought; he had developed a tough hide in prison.

He stepped inside and pushed the door shut behind him. The force of his tough, masculine presence seemed to suddenly crowd the small room. He threw his jacket onto a nearby chair and stood looking at her. Bulla turned away, keeping her back to him, and murmured a soft plea in an emotionally charged voice, "I don't know why you're here. We have nothing to talk about." Her body trembled from the strong play of emotions his nearness had on her.

"We've got a lot to talk about, Bulla. Now why don't you just sit down and listen," he murmured in that low-pitched voice that always vibrated straight through her.

She turned away from the window and looked at him. Slowly, something in the air changed between them. Bulla watched as his ebony eyes made a leisurely perusal of her, from the mass of luxurious aqua bluenette waves that surrounded her face, downward over her full breasts, tapering waist and rounded hips, to her legs and then slowly back up again. His had a hungry look in them. The impact of it was like an electric jolt.

With a surrendering groan, she admitted instantly to herself that nothing had changed between them. if anything, it was even stronger than before, she thought as she felt desire stir deep inside her and remembered how long it had been since he had touched her. How was she going to send him away? Again, she turned away, desperate to ease the potent effect just his looking at her had on the both of them.

"I've got a thousand things to do today," she announced in a thin, rattled voice. "Really I do. I don't know how you found me, but I don't want you here." She fought to retain some kind of composure.

Why had he come? Her life had just settled into a quiet pattern. She had just gotten used to going to sleep without aching to be in his arms, without longing for his power masculinity surrounding her soft curves. The memory had begun to fade. Now he was here, his black eyes challenging her to deny what was still there between them. Suddenly everything was chaotic and in turmoil again, and it was so useless.

"You ran away. You didn't give our marriage much of a chance."

How could he accuse her of that? She wondered in amazement. When she had put everything she had into their marriage, had given him everything and loved him in all conditions, had put up with everything to the breaking point. The accusation only convinced her that they were poles apart.

"I don't want to talk to you," she cried softly, her voice holding a plaintive note. "I don't want to turn everything in my life upside down again." She folded her arms in a resolute gesture. She saw his mouth tighten and his head angle downward, his handsome features hardening into a set, taut lines. She gazed back at him. He towered over her, and the room seemed to shrink with him in it.

"I've got something to say, and I'm not leaving." He stepped forward with the air of a man who intended to say what he had come to say, and nothing on the face of the earth was going to stop him.

A feeling of helplessness swept over her.

"Have we got that straight, Bulla?" His voice was soft, steel covered in velvet.

Her last shred of hope, that she might get him to leave, withered and died. Her gaze slid over his built, powerful masculinity, his thick black hair that was forever in that unique style that was him. There was about him that aura of strength she had noticed when she had first met him. She tore her gaze away, knowing that it was useless to try to make him go. She would have to hear him out. Restlessly, she moved towards the small kitchen. Goten watched her speculatively.

"There's something different about you," he said, "but I can't put my finger on what it is." The leaden color in his eyes changed into a glittery ebony.

Bulla tried to stem the surge of anxiety inside her. She knew why she looked different, and she wasn't ready to explain what that difference was.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" His eyes narrowed at the tremor in her voice.

"Yes, I would."

_Keep clam,_ she thought. _There's no need to panic. One cup of coffee, and maybe he will be gone._

She moved past him, and his expression slipped into an enigmatic mask while she got some cups out of the cupboard and he stood lounging in the doorway. She felt her skin burning as his gaze slipped possessively over the soft feminine curves he knew so intimately.

"How long have you been living here?" His low-pitched voice invaded the kitchen and curled around her senses like a whip.

"I found it soon after I left…you," she murmured, wishing the kettle would boil and he would go into the living room instead of hovering in the doorway.

"Why did you leave, Bulla?"

"I would have thought that was pretty obvious." She turned to face him. "You did everything you could to tell me you hated me, and probably would continue to hate me for the rest of your life."

He bent his head and stared at the floor for a long moment. And then looked up again at her.

"I want you back," he said quietly, holding her gaze.

His words sent a swift, sharp shaft of pleasure that was undeniable. The intensity of it shook her. Why was the pull he had on her still so strong? she wondered as she gazed steadily at him.

His eyes glinted, and he seemed to be struggling with some feelings still at war within himself.

"You came forward and cleared my name, you and Trunks. The lawyers contacted me and asked if I wanted to take things any further, to reopen the case. I don't. I'm satisfied. I've been exonerated, and that's what mattered most to me. I don't hate him anymore. I don't hate anyone anymore," he added meaningfully.

"Not me?" Bulla murmured softly.

"Least of all you, Bulla," he added. There was an expression in his eyes that seemed to send quick, sensuous darts piercing her skin.

"The lawyers corroborated what you told me about your stepfather. I knew deep down inside that you were telling me the truth when you tried to explain what had led up to your testimony in court, but I was too angry, too filled with wounded pride. I couldn't accept that I had fallen so deeply in love with you, so I couldn't accept that what you were telling me was the truth." He paused. "It was a very courageous thing for you to do, Bulla. And I think it must have been you. I can't see Trunks doing it without a good solid push. Am I right?"

"It was what we owed you, nothing more," Bulla said quietly, dismissing his words. "Nothing more. No one can ever make up to you for those years stolen out of your life. But I believe I've paid my debt to you," she told him, referring to what he had told her that day at the condo when he asked her to marry him, so to speak. "Trunks has been ordered by the judge to do community service. I wasn't charged because the judge took into account the extenuating circumstances and my age at the time." She looked up at him, questioning him with her blue eyes. "What will you do now? Will you leave Lilac's and look for a job with a major airline?"

"I've come to like working at Lilac's. I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet. I've talked to Phoenix about buying a share of the business and getting in on the management side, but we haven't made any firm decisions." He let his black-eyed gaze slide over Bulla.

"But that's not why I came here. I didn't come to talk about my career plans. I came to talk about us." He moved forward.

Suddenly the kettle whistled, and Bulla was grateful for its shrill wail. She didn't want to talk about them; it was all too confusing. She wanted him to go and to leave her to get on with her life, such as it was. She picked up the kettle and poured the boiling water into the waiting cups. She replaced the kettle on the stove, not looking at him, and then lifted the small tray and led the way out of the kitchen. Goten followed with that sensual ease with which he did almost everything. She sensed his assessing gaze sliding over her. When they reached the living room, she set the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Where are you working?" he asked as she passed him a steaming cup. She sank into a cushioned chair next to the sofa, careful to keep her distance from him. He sat on the sofa, stretching his long legs out in front of him for moment before leaning forward to place the coffee on the table and resting his arms on his outspread knees.

"I have a job with an airline company." She knew he was stalling, not saying what he wanted to say. His eyes seemed to drink her in, and she gazed at him with a longing that she could no longer conceal. As Bulla and Goten gazed at each other, the taut lines at his mouth relaxed. She went on with surface conversation, avoiding the undercurrents that were racing between them and threatening to overwhelm her.

"Mr. Phoenix gave me a very good reference. It was easy to find a job." She rose and stood in front of him, only inches away.

"How did you find me?" she demanded with a thread of exasperation in her voice. "Did he tell you?" She had sworn both Mr. Phoenix and Valese to secrecy. She was suddenly angry that one of them had obviously gone back on his word.

"Let's just say I found out," he said, gazing up at her, his eyes mystifying. "I've been trying to find you for mouths. Phoenix wouldn't tell me where you were, and Valese wouldn't, either." His voice flickered dangerously with some nameless emotion, and Bulla wondered what it was.

Goten didn't volunteer any more information, and the expression in his eyes grew smoky. His gaze began to travel slowly up over her legs, enjoying the view and snug-fitting jeans allowed.

She suddenly wished she had on a skirt. The look in his eyes made it instantly clear what he was thinking, and the knowledge made her blood run hot and her face grew warm.

"For Kami sake, don't stand in front of me like that." He ground out the words, biting down on each one as he tipped his head downward, averting his eyes. "I'm having trouble keeping my hands off you as it is."

A heat rush flashed through her with such riveting force that she almost winced. Bulla turned and walked to the other side of the room. Goten, equally restless, moved to the window near the desk. He stared out for a long moment, as if he were weighing his words before said them. Bulla suddenly realized how much she was still in love with him and that she was sliding down that slippery slope of desire, unable to stop herself, with nothing to grab onto.

"Bulla, I love you so very much. And I want you back. I never knew how much I loved you until you left. I didn't know how much because I kept it well hidden from myself."

She noticed that he said the words as if they were dragged from him, as if they were still difficult for him to say, which only served to give them more impact.

"Because of my anger over what you had done, I couldn't admit to myself how much I loved you."

Bulla wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him. But some caution, some instinctive reserve held her in check, and she stood poised on the other side of the room, afraid to move. Not quite able to believe her ears. All those weeks and mouths of living with him had conditioned her to hold her natural responses in check. Too many times she had reached out only to be rejected.

"I don't think I could come back," she said in a soft voice that echoed her doubts, her fear that things might still be the same if she returned to him. She could see something flare inside him at her resistance. He swung around.

"Damn it, Bulla! I couldn't help the way I felt. I couldn't dismiss those years that were cut out of my life with a snap of my fingers." The intensity of his emotions fired the words at her across the space of the room.

"Why did you ever marry me if you felt that way?" she asked with a shaky tremor in her voice, close to tears but struggling not to let it show.

"I told you at the time," he said flatly. "I couldn't stop wanting you. Don't you remember that day in the condo? I told you, I still wanted you, but I didn't like the way you made me feel. I wanted to punish you. Maybe I thought in time…the anger would go away." His black eyes seemed to deepen as he spoke. "It's all gone now. I want you back, and I promise things will be different."

His built, powerful frame still dominated the room. Yet there was a strangely vulnerable look in his ebony gaze that echoed his declaration of love, and it had a powerful effect on Bulla's senses. But she still hesitated, she still wasn't sure. She couldn't go back to the way things were. How could he be so sure that he had rid himself of the bitterness? Hers and Trunks' confessions had restored his good reputation, but it hadn't restored the time spent in prison or removed the scars those times had left on him. She turned away, still protecting herself with doubts. She heard him cross the room and move close behind her. Her whole being was finely tuned to his presence, so that when his hands slid to the sides of her waist and he pulled her gently back against him, a soft low moan of pleasure escaped involuntary from her throat. She closed her eyes at the overwhelming sensation of his nearness and touch.

"Oh, that's not fair," she whispered.

"What's not fair?" he asked softly against the side of her face, his lips grazing her temple. "The effect you have on me isn't fair," he added huskily, as his fingers softly threaded through the mass of waves at the back of her head, stroking and comforting. "It's driving me crazy being in this room, not being able to touch you. What do you think it's been like for me all these mouths? Lying awake at night remembering what it was like between us."

Bulla's whole being instantly responded to him, and she shuddered when his arms tightened around her.

He raised his voice slightly. "Don't you know by now the effect you have on me?" He was falling back on what he knew had never died between them, using the most powerful weapon he possessed. He lowered his head to nuzzle the side of her neck.

"I never stopped wanting you. I never stopped loving you. Other feelings got in the way, that's all." He breathed against her ear as his mouth moved in a searing caress down the length of her neck. "Nothing is standing in our way now. I think you want me as much as I you. Come back to me, Bulla. I need you." His voice was an urgent caress, causing desire to surge so strongly inside her that Bulla knew she must try to resist it or she would be lost forever. Her hands locked on his, trying to push them away, but he only pulled her closer to him, and she felt him mold her body to his. She turned in his arms, resisting.

"I'm through with love." Bulla's voice caught on a tremulous note. She had failed dismally, and she wasn't willing to try again.

"How can you be through with love when you were made for love?" he countered softly.

"I don't want to hear about loving." She tried to move out of his arms again, but he held her tightly and wouldn't let her go.

"I need time to think," she begged. "How do I know it won't be the same as it was?" Her voice was shaking, with all her senses now fully aroused. "Maybe all those feelings are still inside you. It's only because we've been apart for so long. When we're together again, day in and day out, those feelings will come back just as before. I can't come back now. I need time to think first." She pushed at his hands.

"You'd better go," she murmured.

"Are you sure that's how you feel?" His black eyes contemplated her with open skepticism.

"No, I'm not sure what I think. I need time. I don't know what I feel. Everything is all confused…inside my head." She couldn't think straight when he was near her, holding her like this. Her voice was choked and barely audible. They weren't the words she wanted to say, but she felt she had no choice. Now, suddenly everything was havoc inside her. Why had he come back and disturbed the peaceful routine of the new life she had made for herself? It wasn't much of a life, but it was all she had. Frustration surged inside her.

"I wish you'd never come here!" The anguished words suddenly exploded from her. She didn't want to say that, either, but she couldn't stop herself.

At that moment a tiny wailing erupted from the one of the bedrooms, and Bulla instantly froze, not daring to breathe. She hoped desperately that Goten hadn't heard it. But his head turned shapely at the sound, and his ebony eyes clouded with puzzlement as the sound came again, this time much more loudly and much more clearly.

The color drain from Bulla's face.

"What was that?" Goten demanded.

"Nothing." She responded too quickly, and then the wail came again, and she closed her eyes, willing it to stop.

"That sounds like a…" Goten left the sentence dangling in midair, set her away from himself and started to move towards the bedroom door.

Bulla rushed after him in futile pursuit, unable to stop herself.

"Where are you going? You can't go in there!" Her voice ended on a wobbly note as he turned to confront her.

"Why can't I, Bulla?" he snapped as she caught the full impact of his narrowed glittering gaze. She reached out to grab at his shirt, but came up with a handful of air as he moved out of her reach.

"You shouldn't go in there," she warned. But it was no use. With long strides, he burst into the bedroom, pushing open the door which swung back and hit the wall.

She was behind him, and she watched as he stopped short, staring silently in front of him. The tiny room was papered with teddy bears and furnished with a crib and chest of drawers bought from a thrift shop. Two mobiles of teddy bears and purple and pink stars hanging from the ceiling. A rocking chair with a baby blue cushion sat in one corner.

But Goten paid no attention to the décor because his eyes were riveted on one tiny, squalling creature in the crib and another one sleeping soundly by it. The first one was flailing its tiny arms and legs in a fine rage. Goten stood stock-still, as if he had the breath knocked right out of him, stunned from shock.

He swore beneath his breath as if he couldn't believe his eyes. And Bulla clenched hers tightly, hoping she was caught up in some bizarre dream, hoping she would wake up any second now and find that he was gone. But he moved forward and stood gazing down at the babies in the crib for several long moments. Suddenly he turned around and with the intensity of his raw feelings vibrating in his voice demanded, "What are those? And who the hell do they belong to?"

"I'm baby-sitting," Bulla croaked in desperation. "One of the women who works with me…"

His eyes were measuring her intently, and a murderous gleam sprang onto them at her words, making her snap her mouth shut. A wry sardonic twist of satisfaction pulled at his mouth when she did. It was no use, she thought. He knew. She could see that. How could he not? One of those babies was going to look so much like him and the other one like her. They had black hair with streaks of blue in them while one baby had sapphire blue eyes and the other one had ebony eyes, just like its father.

Goten bent forward, lifted one of the baby's out of the crib, the one that had been crying, and held it at arm's length in front of him, inspecting it as if it were some kind of new invention, the first one of its kind ever produced. One of his rusty smiles began to curve the corners of his mouth. The baby stopped crying instantly and looked back at him. They were absorbed in each other. Then, holding the baby gingerly, he turned back to Bulla.

"She's beautiful. They both are," he said in a hoarse voice that conveyed how deeply he was effected.

"Yeah, they are," Bulla said, as she took a deep breath. "They're a boy and a girl. I named her Soshi," Bulla said and pointed to the baby Goten was holding. "And him Ichi," she said, pointing to the baby still asleep in the crib.

Goten's mouth flicked into a wry grin. He seemed very pleased to have fathered both a son and a daughter. The baby continued to watch him. There seemed to be an instant bond between the two, both were highly curious about the other, it seemed. Soshi put a hungry fist to her mouth and focused hazily on her curious daddy.

Helplessly Bulla watched them, unable to tear her gaze away. Finally Goten looked back at her, and she saw the rusty smile fade. With narrowed, accusatory gleam in his eyes, he asked her.

"How old are they?"

"Almost three months. I've been working and leaving them in day care at the hospital."

"You weren't going to tell me I had children." His voice was deceptively casual, but she knew it masked a growing anger. He lowered the baby back in the crib, and, much to Bulla's surprise, Soshi lay quietly by her brother, and Goten placed a purple pacifier that laid by her foot and placed it in her mouth.

"Why didn't you tell me, Bulla?" Goten asked, his voice tight with emotion. "For Kami's sake, why didn't you tell me?"

"I…was going to. I was waiting for the right moment, but it never came. I kept meaning to." The words rushed out of her mouth. She had meant to tell him, she really had. "You had a right to know, of course. But I…didn't want to bring children up with things the way they were between us. After I left, I knew if I told you, you would…want…"

"You're damned right I would want," he replied with a strange, strangled hoarseness in his voice again. "They are my son and daughter. Those are my kids!"

Bulla braced herself for another sharp rebuke. But instead of the hard, flinty look in his eyes that she had expected to see, there was something else. She stood waiting. He took a deep breath and finally let it out in a long, ragged sigh. It was as if he couldn't believe what his eyes clearly told him was reality. He looked around the room, then back to the crib and then to her, struggling to absorb the new state of affairs.

"I can't believe you kept all this from me," he explained. The tone of his low-pitched voice echoed disbelief, but also other strong emotions. When his gaze flicked to hers, he seemed a little ashamed and embarrassed. She noted with swift surprise that his whole expression had changed. The closed, distant look had fallen away.

"I guess I can't blame you." He dragged the words out slowly and huskily from somewhere deep inside. Unbelievably, his face suddenly relaxed once again into one of his rusty smiles. He walked across the room and grabbed the tops of her arms.

"Kami, I want you back more than ever now, and I want our babies." Earnestness replaced the smile. "It will be different. I swear. I love you," he said. And then he pulled her into his arms and engulfed her in a bone-crushing embrace, his warm breath feathering the side of her face as he murmured the words close to her mouth.

"You're not through with loving, Bulla." Then his mouth moved with a warm sensuality over her, and he began kissing her, the side of her face, her cheek, her mouth, her neck with lazy rhythm that always drew a surge of desire from her. His kisses were tender yet insistent and demanded a response as his hands slid down her back and molded her to him.

Unable to stop herself, she put her arms around his neck, and her fingers sank into the thick hair at his nape. In seconds, her mouth was eagerly returning his long, drugging kisses. Her whole body flowed into his muscular strength, as their hunger for each other surged up from deep inside. The red haze of desire shrouded them in its mist.

He broke off the kiss and muttered hoarsely in her ear. "I want you so much. Kami, Bulla, I've missed you so much. All those lonely nights. I thought I would never find you again. Valese wouldn't tell me where you were. Phoenix would bridle every time I even mentioned your name. What did you say to him? I couldn't drag it out of him no matter how hard I tried. All he would tell me was that you were all right. You were all right." He laughed deep in his throat. "But I wasn't all right. I've been driving everyone crazy with my hair-trigger black temper. I think Phoenix only put up with me because he knew what had happened between us and because the poor guy is surrounded by females at home and knows the misery they can cause." He pulled away to look at her with tenderness in his eyes.

"And now this latest surprise." He grinned. "It still hasn't entirely sunk in yet that I'm a father. That I've got a both a daughter and a son, I have to get used to the idea."

"Are you sure that it's not just your son and daughter you want?" Bulla ached with love for him and was transfixed by this sudden transformation, but she had to be sure of him this time. She was terrified that the bubble of happiness she was floating on was going to burst. She lifted her hand and touched the side of his face.

"Can't you tell how I feel about you? What do I have to do to prove it to you, go down on my knees?" His drawing voice ran over her like a caress. "I came here looking for you first. Don't you remember?" he whispered before he kissed her again, dispelling her last remnant of doubt. When he broke off the kiss, her eyes surveyed his familiar face through a languid mist of love.

"How _did_ you find me?" she finally asked. He squeezed her, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"I saw a letter in your handwriting on Valese's desk, and I picked it up and pocketed it." He was completely unrepentant and pleased with his ingenuity. "I'm going to have that little firecracker after me."

Two cooing gurgles came from the direction of the crib. Bulla checked on the babies to find Soshi sucking on her pacifier and with a delighted smile on her face, her little cheeks rosy, and watched them with big glittery black eyes and Ichi was awake now looking up with curious blue eyes as Goten held Bulla locked in his arms. They both began to smile simultaneously.

"I'll bet they don't like being ignored any more than I do." Goten bent his head and bit the soft curve of her neck. He groaned softly and murmured against her ear. "I've been ignored for a long time. You've got a lot of catching up to do."

"They also know how to get what they want and are very determined about getting it," Bulla answered, a smile curving her lips. "Just like their daddy."

"Smart babies." Goten's hands slid underneath Bulla's shirt, and his large body shuddered as he touched her soft curves. "You still haven't answered me," he whispered as he flicked open the clasps of her bra. One long-fingered hand cover the fullness of her breasts.

"I want to hear you say it," he rasped as a huskiness invaded his voice. "I want to hear you say you're coming back and that you can't stand being away from me any more than I can stand being away from you. That you want me like hell." His voice thickened as his thumbs caressed the sensitive nipples of her breasts, and she closed her eyes with longing.

"I'll come back. How could I stay away after what you've told me?" she whispered. She felt desire curling deep within her. The way he was holding her, she couldn't think straight anymore, and she was having trouble getting the words out, as a hazy mist of sensuality enveloped both of them.

"Does that mean you're coming back with me today?" His hand unfastened the button of her jeans.

"I don't think I could stay away another minute," she answered in all truth, as she felt his hand slip inside her jeans and press her intimately into him. He groaned and then shuddered, his breathing disturbed, and his eyes glistened with aroused desire. He held her away from him so that he could finish what he wanted to say before conversation became impossible.

"When? How soon?" he demanded with a note of urgency in his voice. "I want you to come with me now. I don't want to have to hang around here or wait around in Lilac for you."

That challenging love that demanded everything now soared between them. Their eyes met, and the air crackled.

"All I have to do is notify the people at work that I won't be returning. The apartment's lease will be up soon, so that represents no problem, and the furnishings I can have some charity organization come and collect. They're hardly worth worry about. There's nothing else standing in our way. Is there?" she asked with meaning, wondering if there were still any dark shadows inside him.

Goten raised his head and looked straight into eyes. "No," he said quietly. "The past will never come between is ever again. We've both got too much to look forward to."

With a look of frustration that testified to his mounting desire, he pulled her back into his arms and whispered against her ear. "If you don't let me make love to you within the next five minutes, I'm going to explode."

With a ruling smile, Bulla placed her hands on Goten's arms loosened his grip on her and slid her hands into his. She then led him out of the babies' room and into the bedroom next door and pulled him into her bedroom and closed the door behind them. Where they would spend the next hour or two in each other's arms making sweet passionate love.

**The End**


End file.
